Someone Else's Heart
by PersianFreak
Summary: Sookie is looking forward to her second year in the residence at University of Vancouver; even more so now that her neighbour is a tall, blonde Viking. AH/AU/OOC
1. Chapter 1

**Someone Else's Heart**

_**by Persian Freak**_

A/N: Hey y'all! *waves* New year, new story.

The title of this story is based on the Regina Spekter song, _On The Radio_.

This is my third venture into the AU/AH/OOC universe and, I suspect, far from my last. Please, please let me know what you think, I always do need a bit more encouragement for the first chapter. I don't know how often I'll be able to update, what with school and whatnot, but I guess we'll see.

This story is unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes are mine. Bear with me.

* * *

_Chapter 1_

_This is how it goes:_

_You're young until you're not,_

_You love until you don't,_

_You try until you can't._

_You laugh until you cry,_

_You cry until you laugh,_

_And everyone must breathe,_

_Until their dying breath._

_No, this is how it works,_

_You peer inside yourself,_

_You take the things you like,_

_And try to love the things you took._

_And then you take that love you made,_

_And stick it into some,_

_Someone else's heart,_

_Pumping someone else's blood._

_On The Radio_, Regina Spekter

**September 2010**

It only takes a couple of hours for me to get completely settled in once my parents leave, having driven me to my dorm room and taken me out for dinner before they head back to our hometown of Bon Temps. The whole process took much longer last year but this is my second time around and I don't have to stop to worry about school or how I'm going to make friends, like I did the last time around. I smile to myself as I recall how anxious I had been for my freshman year in college. That anxiety has been replaced with excitement for my sophomore year and I find myself humming lightly as I put up a poster of the Backstreet Boys on my wall. I got lucky this year: my room is actually a double room, which means that I have two beds and two desks, the former of which I pushed together to create a king-sized bed and I grin as I tug the king-sized fitted sheets my parents bought me a couple of hours ago over the two mattresses.

The clock tells me that it's barely one o'clock when I finish and I grab my phone from the small ledge above my bed to send a quick text to my best friend Amelia. Her response arrives a minute later, telling me that she is on the eighth floor. I grin and we make plans to meet in the cafeteria in half an hour for a late lunch. I flop on my bed, taking a breather for the first time since that morning.

I'm excited about this year, there's no doubt about that. I love Psych and after the hell that was first year, what with all the pre-requisites I had to take, I can't wait to study what I _actually_ want to study. But a part of me, the part that cares less about academics and more about my social life, is anxious to start the year sans boyfriend, as Quinn and I broke up in mid-May last year and had been together for just over a year.

Not that I miss him.

What we had was… good while it lasted. I cared about him, a lot, and I know he did too. I think the problem was that we kept waiting for more to happen, for us to feel more than we did, and it never came. We kept waiting for it because we'd known each other all our lives and because it would be so easy to fall in love and go to college together, someday get married and settle down. It never happened though, and it wasn't until we slept together – I held out for a full year, much to the shock of all my friends – that I decided there was no point, that we both deserved better. As upset as he had been when I first told him, Quinn couldn't argue with my logic and we still managed to be on okay terms; not very close but not awkward and avoid-y either. It's a good place to be, I like to think, because I don't regret being with him – he's a good guy, really – but he wasn't for me.

Though I can't help being disgruntled at myself for dumping him before I got to have actual _good_ sex, as opposed to de-virginalizing sex. Thinking about the night I lost my virginity has me drumming my fingers on my stomach before I reach for my phone to check the time before hauling my ass downstairs. The door across the hall is open and I can see boy stuff in the open suitcase on the bed as I head to the elevator bank and punch the button. I see a few people I know moving in and I wave hello or stop briefly to exchange words on my way, which means that Amelia's waiting for me by the time I get to the cafeteria on the ground floor. We grab trays and soup-and-sandwich combos before heading to our usual table in the far corner of the large hall, by the massive windows looking out into a courtyard.

Amelia and I have been best friends since junior high, so it's not like we missed each other so much as we missed living so close to each other; her house is on the outer edges of Bon Temps, across the town from mine. As we eat, I share some of my thoughts about being single and she comforts me, telling me that this is a good thing, that maybe I'll find whoever I'm meant to be with, whatever that means. I roll my eyes at her because it's easy for her to say things like that, with Tray's promise ring sparkling on her finger. They've been together since they decided the opposite gender doesn't have cooties.

"But seriously Sook," she insists, spooning some type of rice-y soup into her mouth. "Didn't you break up with him because you didn't love him? Here's your chance to find someone you _do_ love." Sighing, I incline my head and stir my own bowl of scalding hot soup; freaking Amelia and her ability to drink hot liquids without batting an eyelash. Oh, and give logical advice.

We have to go our separate ways after lunch, Amelia saying she has yet to finish unpacking and waving away my offers to help, which actually means that she plans on christening every surface of her room. I tell her to use Clorox wipes on everything afterwards and she laughs as I get off the elevator, leaving a grin on my face that still hasn't disappeared by the time I make it back to my room. The occupant of room 754, across from my own, has fully moved in by now, a few duffle bags and boxes strewn about the floor and I can see it's also a single room, though the door blocks me from seeing the occupant himself. I hesitate in my doorway, biting my lip as I decide to be the welcoming sophomore and go to meet my new neighbour. There's the sound of something falling and a muttered curse and I apologize instantly for having startled him, my words trailing off when he appears in front of me. My eyes go up, up, up, searching for his and settling on them a good foot above me. Bright blue, gorgeous eyes and blonde hair, just the perfect length. And the rest of him, whew. My neighbour is _gorgeous_. Goddamn.

"Hi," I offer with a smile and he grins right back.

"Hey."

"I just wanted to say 'hi'. I'm Sookie, this is me," I gesture at the half-open door behind me and his gaze briefly follows my hands before returning to me.

"Hey there, Sookie." He extends his hand, "I'm Eric."

"Nice to meet you, Eric." _You're sexy. Too sexy_.

"Come on in, you can watch me put my stuff away." He gestures me inside and I thank him, offering him help that he graciously refuses so I plop onto his bed with its navy sheets and comforter. There's a soccer ball on a shelf and a Macbook buried under a pile of cables and adaptors, an opened box housing a printer next to the whole mess. At the closet, Eric appears to briefly consider dumping all his clothes straight out of the duffel bag but then sighs and transfers the folded garments into the drawers and even goes so far as to hang some of the fancier items up. I notice a guitar case leaning against a wall and ask if he plays, because my own guitar, Chandler, is set in its stand in my room. He indicates that he does and we begin to talk. I soon discover that he's originally from Sweden, but now lives in Osoyoos, which I know to be a small town east of where we are in Vancouver. It explains his tan, because the town is hotter than hell in the summer and Osoyoos Lake often presents too great a temptation. With a nonchalant shrug, he explains that he lives with an aunt, his parents having passed away years before, and that he's here on a soccer scholarship, studying sociology before he applies to Business. When I offer him my condolences for his loss, he grins and thanks me, repeating that it was a long time ago and that he doesn't remember them before asking about me. I'm from Bon Temps, I explain, and witness his brows furrowing together so I offer more on my hometown but he nods and tells me he knows where it is. I quirk a brow, sensing more to the story, but he doesn't elaborate so I continue slowly, telling him about my parents and what I'm studying this year. He lines up his textbooks on a shelf, asking me a few more questions and I can't help feeling flattered that he has taken an interest in me.

He throws himself onto the bed next to me when I mention Amelia and asks, "What about a boyfriend?"

"Why would you assume I have one?" I laugh and he smiles back.

"I didn't, I just want to know if you're single."

"I am." My smile fades a little bit.

"Recent?" he asks, noticing my slight reaction.

Shaking my head, I respond, "Not really. Quinn and I broke up three, four months ago now."

"Does this Quinn go here?" I nod in response and he raises a brow.

"What about you, got a girlfriend?" That is apparently the wrong thing to ask because he shuts right down, with such severity that I actually recoil. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't." Lies, I say. He continues, "No, I don't have a girlfriend."

"Oh," I pause, sensing the conversation has come to a complete halt. "Well, I should probably go." I stand up, straightening my shirt and he mirrors my movements.

"It was nice meeting you, and I guess I'll be seeing a lot of you this year," I smile, trying to keep the flirting out of my voice because, damn, I can only hope to see a lot of him this year.

"You too, Sookie."

888

Classes start three days later, and I am more than willing to dive in headfirst. I have two psychology courses this term, Intro to Social Psychology and Personality & Cognition, both of which I am beyond excited for and it doesn't take long before I'm knee-deep in various assignments. My Intro to Philosophy elective proves to be the class to worry about, with its nightly reading assignments and monthly essays, but even this I tend to enjoy once I really begin to understand the material.

What it comes down to, however, is that I'm grateful for the distraction. Between the part-time job I have working at a restaurant on weekends and a full courseload, I rarely find myself with sufficient time to think about my gorgeous neighbour.

Several weeks pass as the new occupants of the floor really start to gel. I become friends with a girl named Tara whose sharp wit and biting humour matches my own, and we spend a considerable amount of time together along with Amelia, whom I introduce Tara to.

In other news, it doesn't take long for all the girls on the floor to recognize just how much of a fox Eric really is, and he doesn't seem to mind either, flirting with whoever pleases him but never crossing the line, not that some of the girls would mind it if he did. On more than one occasion, I witness a girl drunkenly banging on his door, vying for his attentions. Eric, ever the gentleman, always kindly helps them back to their own beds, returning a few minutes later to shoot me a sheepish grin if my door happens to be open. At some point, I stop opening my door every time a drunk girl shows up at his door, no longer curious as to what is causing the racket.

My Psychology textbooks call this 'habituation'.

I regard all this with amusement, finding it entertaining and a bit disheartening for girls of my generation that they're so willing to have sex with someone just because they're good-looking and work out often. It says a lot about college girls that we can be so desperate and lacking in self-respect, I think. For all they know, Eric could be a complete ass, a serial-rapist, any one of a thousand undesirable things. And yet his pretty blue eyes and cut abs are sufficient to make the panties drop.

At least Eric is dignified enough to not take advantage, and that makes me respect him, makes me regard him as something a bit more than just a very pretty face.

888

My Blackberry is passively flashing its LED at me by the time I step out of the lecture hall, following the crowd through the halls and out the door. I sigh as I move out of the constant stream of people and pull up my messages to see that, sure enough, Sam is texting me.

- _How was the English midterm?_

I met Sam last year, when he had lived a couple of doors down the hall from me. His friendly smiles and willingness to do me favours had given the impression that he had felt more for me than a friend, but being with Quinn, I had always kept him at arm's length. I had never been interested in flirting with other guys when I was in a relationship and even now, despite being single, I find I'm really not interested in him.

We barely spoke over the summer, since Sam lives on the other side of the country, working for his dad's restaurant in New Brunswick. With the start of the new year we soon discovered that we are in different blocks of the same English class.

And now – I sigh again as I contemplate a response – he won't stop texting me. It didn't help that I mentioned my relationship status, which elicited an almost instantaneous "Oh I'm so sorry about that, are you okay?", and that Sam seems to think with Quinn out of the way, there is nothing standing in the way of our epic and true love.

_- I think it went well. How did yours go yesterday?_

Pleased with myself for coming up with a polite response that doesn't convey my frustration with him, I begin heading to the on-campus food court, just off the quad.

_- That's good :) mine was good too, want to grab lunch?_

Fuuuuuuuck.

I scoff at my phone, frustrated with Sam pushing it when he's already wearing my patience thin. It's not that it's not flattering; it is, really. It's just exhausting to be polite and friendly to someone who wants more from me when, try as I might, I can't feel anything for him. It's a shame, really, because Sam is a good-looking guy, in a shaggy-haired, blue-eyed sort of way and he has this way of speaking that draws you in with the warmth of his voice and the smile that is always there, waiting to tug his lips up in a full grin. Too bad I can't bring myself to like him.

- _Aw, I can't, I have to review my notes for my Psych quiz tomorrow. Rain check?_

I feel bad that I'm lying to him but frankly, if I have to spend another lunch with Sam while he hit on me, I just might smack somebody. Buttoning up my jacket, I shove my hands in my pockets and instead begin heading back to the three towers that make up Mullins Hall, the on-campus residence provided to undergrad students. I stray from the usual paths, avoiding the quad in favour of the narrow path between the arts building and Rockford library. My annoyance dissipates as I listen to my iPod, my footsteps matching the rhythm of the songs as I head home. Soon, I'm stepping off the elevator on the seventh floor of the middle tower – literally, the Middle Tower – and heading to my own room. Letting my bag drop unceremoniously on the floor, I hang up my coat and pull off my boots, turning on the one foot I'm balanced on when I hear the knocking at my ajar door.

"Hey," Eric grins as I kick my boots into the corner. I love my boots, but the fact that their usefulness is limited to my least favourite season dictates how well I treat them.

"Hey," I smile back. "What's up?" Eric and I have struck up an unusual friendship; we're more comfortable around each other than we should be, or at least I am comfortable with him. He's absurdly easy to joke around with, and even though there are moments when he completely shuts down on me (i.e. that one time I mentioned his having a girlfriend) we have proven capable of staying up until 3 A.M. on a school night, just talking about nothing or having an impromptu jam session in the laundry room, waiting for our clothes to dry. Amelia likes him too, claiming that his attractiveness-to-personality ratio is adequate, meaning that he is not all good looks. They do seem to have a bit of a love-hate relationship though, based on the deadpan sense of humour they utilize when they're around each other, which is pretty often considering the amount of time Amelia spends in my room.

Point is, we have a connection. Or so Amelia and Tara tell me.

Point _is_, I refuse to date someone I practically live with.

That's not what he's here for now, though. Leaning against the doorframe, Eric asks me if I want to go down to the caf and grab some food to bring up. In my room, we sit on my bed and dig into the Cajun chicken we both like.

"That Sam guy dropped by," Eric comments, reaching for my soda and I glare at him, more so because of the news he just shared. I eye the water he insists on buying even though he steals gulps (not sips, big boy _gulps_) of whatever carbonated, sugary concoction I've picked for myself every time we get dinner.

"To see you?" I ask, arching a brow.

"Yup, we're together and nothing can stop our love," he deadpans and I roll my eyes. "And apparently, nothing can stop his love for you," he adds and I smack the back of his head. He chokes a bit on _my_ Dr Pepper and I watch in satisfaction as he wipes the liquid from his chin.

"You deserved that."

"I don't see what he sees in you, you're so _brash_," Eric scoffs and I scowl right back.

"Smartass," I mutter into another forkful of chicken and my friend beams. "What did he want?"

"He was looking for you. I told him you had class, like most individuals, and he smacked his forehead and walked away."

"He literally smacked his forehead?"

"I shit you not."

Sighing, I run my hand through my hair and look up pathetically at Eric.

"I take it you're not interested."

"He's a nice guy and all! A little persistent, but nice. Cute." I sigh again. "Nope, not at all interested."

"It's okay. Most guys do tend to pale in comparison to yours truly." He flips his imaginary long locks over his shoulder and I can't help laughing at his goofy ass. Once we stop laughing and things take a more serious tone, he tells me that I should just talk to Sam, let him know that I am Not Interested.

In my head, his words are capitalized.

"It's easy for you to say," I grumble under my breath. Eric _oozes_ confidence. If Confidence were a cologne, Eric would be the nude, drenched European model gazing sexily into the lens, not even bothering to sexily whisper 'Confidence' because he would be Confident that you, as his audience, will stare transfixed until the words flashed across the screen, forever burning themselves into your psyche.

"What, you think guys like being bullshitted? If you don't want him, _tell_ him. Don't let him think he has a chance, especially if you actually think he's a decent guy."

"Okay," I grumble begrudgingly.

"Good girl," he pats the top of my head as he stands up, taking his garbage with him. "I have Econ, so I'll see you later."

888

"Sammy, we need to talk."

I narrow my eyes and tilt my head to the side. Do I look too condescending when I say that? Clearing my throat, I try again.

"Sam, I think we should talk." Too formal? Maybe. It's not like he's nobody, he's _somebody_. More importantly, he's somebody to me. Does it matter though? Rejection never bodes well for a friendship, but then again neither does being strung along. Groaning in frustration, I storm into Eric's room. He drops his textbook and yelps when I barge in on him, giving me an unimpressed look.

"Well hello," he greets, mock-casually.

"I need to practice my speech on you," I explain.

"Your thanks-but-no-thanks speech?" I nod, pouting at him. "Alright," he pushes his notebook away. "Give it to me."

"Sam, we need to talk."

"Why, did you kill his dog?"

"What?"

"You can't sound like you ran over his pet. He'll feel like you're pitying him."

"Urgh. Fine. What if I make it a question, like, Sammy, can I talk to you?"

"Okay, now you sound like _he_ ran over _your _dog."

"Eric!"

"Hey, you wanted my help, this is my help!" Groaning, I flop onto his bed. It takes another twenty minutes but "Sammy, I think we should talk" is what I end up saying and Sam's brows draw together. Then I have to go through the painful process of telling someone I consider a friend that I realize he's interested in me, but that I'm not. That I'm sorry if I've hurt him, and I hope we can somehow continue to be friends again, all the while keenly aware of just how much of a bitch I sound like. Sam looks a tad upset but takes it like a champ and thanks me for my honesty, and I smile when he pulls me into a hug and walks away, out of my room and hopefully out of my life until we're both ready to be in the other's presence.

"Hey," Eric calls a while later, peering into my room. "Did you talk to him?"

"Yeah," I sigh.

"How'd it go?"

I shrug.

"Dinner?" He suggests sympathetically and I nod, walking into his hug and letting him hold me for a moment before following him out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: You guys are fantastic! Thanks to all of you for the wonderful and kind words in your reviews. I try to respond to the ones that I think require a response, but even if I don't, please know that I've read it and that it has only motivated me to keep updating with the kind of work you guys deserve.

Please, keep up the feedback. I love it.

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_Chapter 2_

**October 2010**

**Sookie**

"Hey, are you going out tonight?" Eric peeks his head into my room Friday night, his hair wet from a recent shower.

"Hey," I smile and wave him in. "No, I have to finish a Philosophy paper."

"Aww, come on," he pouts adorably and I notice his full lips. Huh.

"I can't!"

"When is it due?" He asks, plonking down onto my bed.

I sigh, humouring him. "Next Friday."

Eric takes off his imaginary glasses and wipes them with an imaginary clothe before putting them back. "And how much of it have you done?"

Giggling, I roll my eyes but put on a serious face to respond, "I have the conclusion left to do." Nodding at that, he rises and walks to open my closet, pulling out a satiny red sleeveless top and a short, black, tiered skirt, laying them both out on my bed.

"What are you doing?" I ask, mystified.

"Be ready in an hour. I'm driving," he tells me and turns to strut out.

"Eric!" I protest and he turns to level me with his blue eyes. I scowl, narrowing my eyes, but say no more as he closes the door behind him.

My hair is clean from being washed that morning so I use a large-barrelled curling iron to make it wavy and put on some makeup before considering my clothing options, intent on not wearing what Eric picked. His taste is impeccable, however, and I sigh as I tug on the shirt and skirt, locating my velvety black round-toed heels that are deceptively comfortable. I open the door and come face to face with Eric. He's wearing a cobalt blue fitted t-shirt and dark jeans.

"Oh, hi. You look good," I comment sincerely but he's too busy ogling me so I wave a hand in his face. Shaking his head, he snaps out of it and mutters a "wow" before telling me that I look amazing.

"Well, thank you," I smile, not reading much into his words considering he's kept up a relentless stream of flirtatious words in the past weeks. Regardless, soon we're joined by several others from our floor and within minutes, we're in Eric's car along with Tara and her boyfriend Eggs, heading to the usual destination: Vinyl. I feel strangely coupled up and hurry to locate Amelia the moment we reach the club. We get drinks, downing them before joining the considerable number of our fellow students on the dance floor. Two Long Island Iced Teas later, I'm dancing with Eric, grinding against him with his hands on my hips and mine around his neck. Suddenly, there's a hand on my shoulder wrenching me away and I come face to face with a very angry Quinn.

"What the hell are you doing?" I protest as he drags me away to the hallway leading to the bathrooms. We have barely seen each other since May, let alone having actually spoken, and I have to admit he looks good, but then again he always did. I wait for a pain in my heart but there's nothing, because there never was anything. I didn't give him my heart so when we ended things, it didn't break. I'm surprisingly indifferent to his presence. Or at least, I would be if he hadn't dragged me away from my fun.

"What are _you_ doing? Who the fuck is this guy?" he snaps, jabbing a finger at 'my fun' who apparently followed us.

"Get your hand off of her," Eric tells Quinn calmly.

"Me? You're the one feeling her up like she's yours."

"Quinn," I warn and Eric's eyes fill with recognition, remembering who he is from what I've told him.

"So what's it to you?" My friend retorts, "Last I checked, you two were broken up, right Sookie?" He looks to me for confirmation and I nod.

"You don't know anything, pal, so I suggest you walk away," my ex snaps.

"I know enough, _bud_, so get your hands off of her before I make you." This is getting far too intense for my buzzed brain and I shake my head to clear it as Quinn reaches to manhandle Eric and the latter bristles, ready to defend himself.

"Quinn,_ watch yourself._ We broke up five months ago; who I dance with is none of your business. Eric, back off, I've got this." Eric shoots me a look but takes a pointed step back, moving to stand beside me.

"Are you with him now?" Quinn asks bitterly and I burst out laughing, more in shock than anything. Eric looks rather offended.

"What, no! Not that it would be any of your concern if I was," I add, finding the whole situation a tad absurd. He considers that for a second, leaning forward to ask me if he can talk to me for a second, emphasis on the _alone_. I sigh and ask Eric to give us a minute, promising him that I'm fine. In hindsight, dancing with Eric was not the best idea but it _was_ just a dance, and he is incredibly attractive, and as it turned out I did need to blow off a bit of steam.

And right now, I really want to be back in my room working on my goddamn essay.

"What do you want, Quinn?" I sigh, feeling my buzz wear off.

"I want you back, babe," he says quietly.

"No," is my instant reply and I turn to walk away but his hand around my forearm pulls me back. "Let go of me."

"Sookie, I miss you. Come on, don't tell me you don't miss me."

"Let. Go. Of. Me." I hiss through gritted teeth and he seems to realize how serious I am because he does. "Even if I'd wanted to get back together with you before now, your douchey possessive attitude just ruined your chances." With that, I stalk away, leaving my ex boyfriend alone in the dim hallway.

"Are you okay?" Eric asks when I run into him and I nod.

"You're still sober, right?" I ask, making sure that he kept away from the alcohol like he was supposed to and he nods. "Can we go home? Please? I'm tired."

"Sure." We locate Tara and Eggs, who tell us to go ahead and that they'll get a cab later. Within minutes, we're out in the brisk night and I shudder, leaning into him when Eric puts his arm around me. Wordlessly, we get into his old Volvo station wagon and he drives us back. In the hallway outside of our rooms, he stops me and apologizes quietly for having ruined anything between Quinn and I.

"You didn't ruin anything," I laugh, oddly touched by his apology as I slump back against the wall. "I had no intentions of getting back together with him, even less so now that he acted like an ass. I'm sorry for ruining your night."

"You didn't ruin anything," he grins back. "Sorry I kept you away from your fun-filled plans."

Laughing again, I roll my eyes. "Believe it or not, I did have fun. Until the end, that is. Thanks for… Everything."

Eyes trained on mine, Eric inclines his head and suddenly his gaze is intense and full of want. My breath catches in my throat when he leans forwards and my lips respond when he kisses me lightly. I won't pretend I had thought about it, not often at least. I had fleetingly considered being kissed by him from the moment I realized just how good-looking he was but his being pursued by hoards of women and his incessant flirting had kept me from seriously considering him as anything more than the pretty, flirtatious boy across the hall that I had somehow become friends with. His lips are soft though, and gentle, and he tastes like the Sprite he had at the bar. I take stock of all these in the moment before I do what I knew I would have to from the moment he leaned forward to kiss me.

"Eric, no." I push against his chest. "We can't."

"Why not?" He asks, genuinely wondering.

"Because we practically live together. I'm not willing to risk things being awkward with us for the next seven months if things go wrong."

"Who says they'll go wrong?" He asks slyly, his body inches from mine with his hand pressing into the wall over my shoulder. He's so tall.

"Experience. Laws of statistics. What I know about you," I manage to get out.

"And what exactly is that?"

"You're used to being chased, to being adored. You flirt with everyone because you like the attention. It's not really something that I'd enjoy if you and I were together. Unless you're proposing a friends with benefits sort of deal, which is just a big no-no."

Eric considers that for a long moment before saying, "I like you."

"Why, because I'm turning you down?" I ask softly, not meaning to offend him and I'm pleased to see I haven't. "I'm not playing hard to get, Eric. I have no interest in trying to avoid you every time I want to leave my room."

"So don't. Don't avoid me." He cocks his head to the side, "Yeah, I flirt with every one. Maybe you're right, maybe I do like the attention. Doesn't make me a bad person, though. Maybe I just need attention from the right person, and that'll turn out to be enough." He's smiling again, his lovely smile and his eyes twinkle playfully.

"And it might turn out to be not enough," I counter gently. "Thank you, Eric, for a fun night. I'll see you tomorrow." With that, I duck under his arm to unlock my room and close the door, not seeing Eric in the hall as I do.

888

The following Friday afternoon, I step out into the hallway on my to the bathroom, glancing briefly inside Eric's open door only to do a double-take. Perched on the edge of his bed is Eric, his arms wrapped around the petite brunette sitting in his lap. They're talking quietly and laughing, clearly happy to be together, and I avert my gaze to hurry unnoticed to see to my earlier needs. Having washed my hands, I grip the edges of the counter and arch my spine in a feeble attempt at releasing the tension in my body.

I shouldn't care, it shouldn't be any of my business. We're just friends, and I told him I didn't want anything more so I can't blame him if he's moved on. And if it took him a mere week to move on so thoroughly, then thank god I dodged _that_ bullet in the first place.

I splash some water on my face before returning to my room, slamming the door a little harder than absolutely necessary and without casting so much as a glance in the direction of Eric's room. There's just enough time for me to throw myself into my desk chair and pull up the Philosophy essay I'd been reading over one last time before submitting online, when there's a timid knock on my door.

"Come in," I call out as calmly as possible and the door creaks open, a blonde head peeking in much like it did a week ago.

"Hey," Eric greets, quietly friendly. I suppress a noise of frustration and turn back to my laptop, idly scrolling through the document.

"Hi," is my curt response.

"Everything okay?" He steps in cautiously. "Slammed that door pretty hard."

"I'm fine." I add a period and then delete it, tapping at the plastic.

"Sook, are you su-"

"I'm fine. Don't you have a visitor, what are you doing here?" I ask casually. Casual is me. I am casually wondering, based on a casual observation I made earlier.

"She went to the bathroom," he explains, cocking his head to the side when I make a noncommittal sound.

"Whe- oh there you are," I hear a female voice say in the hallway and squeeze my eyes shut.

_Oh this can't be happening._

When I open my eyes, Eric has his arms around the petite brunette previously sitting in his lap and she's smiling politely as she offers me a greeting.

"Flick, this is Sookie. Sookie, this is my best friend Felicia."

If it's possible for me to be casually relieved, then I am. Sighing internally, I stand up because it would be rude not to and tell her it's nice to meet her. She's beautiful, I observe, with wide brown eyes, thick brown hair and a perfectly gamine little figure. I wish I could hate her, but she seems so genuinely pleased to meet me that I can't rightly bring myself to.

"Eric has told me so much about you," Felicia tells me and my eyes dart up to Eric's in surprise. He fidgets uncomfortably, mumbling her name and she laughs softly at him.

"Oh. Well, I can't say he's told me an awful lot about you," I smile apologetically. "Are you here visiting?"

"I was in Europe for a year, working and travelling," she nods. "I got back two days ago, just long enough to unpack and pack for the weekend." Smacking Eric's stomach, she grins victoriously when he winces. "Which reminds me, can I borrow a towel? A _clean_ towel, assuming you do laundry here?" Felicia asks him and he scoffs to retrieve a folded towel from his room.

"Excuse me, I need to shower," she smiles and leaves us standing awkwardly in my room.

"I thought she was your girlfriend," I explain to my feet.

His jaw drops. "Is that why you got angry? Because you thought I went from telling you I like you to dating some chick?" There's colour in his cheeks and now he just looks annoyed. Maybe a tad offended. "She's my best friend, I've known her since we were seven and I hadn't seen her since last August." I nod, understanding that I've offended him. "And I still like you. I'm likely not going to be over you within the next week and even if I was, I wouldn't flaunt my new girlfriend because even I'm not that big of a dick."

"I'm sorry," I tell him solemnly.

"Apology accepted," he nods once and then a wide grin spreads across his face. "You like me too."

"Eric, don't-"

"It's okay," he holds up a hand, "I can wait." Still beaming, Eric tells me he'll see me later and turns to walk out, clicking my door shut behind him.

888

"He's really not that bad, you know," Felicia's voice tells me from the door and I turn to find her in my room, smiling. I look behind her and she adds, "He went to hand in some assignment that's due in twenty minutes or something, I don't know." She waves a dismissive hand and I invite her in to take a seat on my bed.

"What do you mean?" I have to ask, curious about what Eric's oldest friend has to say about him.

"I know he can be kind of a jerk and cocky, and I know the flirting thing is kind of a put off if you're not, ya know, a floozy. But he does have his good qualities. I would know."

Laughing a little, I ask, "Like what?"

"Like, 'kay," she turns to bring one bent knee on my bed, facing me. "When I was thirteen, I dated this guy Luke for two months, which was, you know, the height of commitment back then. And I saw him holding another girl's hand and I flipped. Like it broke my little heart and I broke up with him and went home and cried all night. And Eric," here she takes a moment to smile fondly, "Eric showed up at my house with this giant tub of ice cream and snuggled with me all night. I mean, a twelve-year-old boy snuggled with me all night and didn't try anything."

I have to smile at that image and can feel myself softening towards him. "Tell me more."

Felicia thinks for a second and then turns somber. "Me leaving for Europe was sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing because my, uhm, fiancé – yeah, I was getting married young," she adds at my perplexed expression. "Anyways, he broke up with me, told me we were too young and that he wasn't ready."

"Aw, I'm so sorry, Felicia."

She shrugs, "It's okay. The point of the story was that Eric picked me up in his car and we drove down to this tiny little cove by the lake, and just stayed up all night talking and looking at the stars." Pausing, she continues, "Look, he told me why you don't want to date him, and I'm gonna tell you that won't happen. I'm not saying you won't ever break up, because I'm going to be honest with you and you might, but he won't let things get awkward. He's too careful when it comes to the people he cares about, and he cares about you. I can see it, and I can see you care about him too."

"Look, I don't know Felicia…" I sigh and run a hand through my hair.

"I know you don't know me," she says softly. "And maybe I'm biased because I want to see him happy, but I really do think that he could make you happy too."

"What," I stop myself. "Felicia, did something happen to him?"

"Why do you ask?" She grins.

"You sound so sad, talking about wanting to see him happy," I admit with a shrug.

"Yeah, well, that's not my story to tell." Getting to her feet, she smoothes her shirt and turns back to face me in the doorway. "Give it some thought, okay? Really, he's worth a try."

888

Felicia – or Flick, as only Eric is allowed to call her – stays until Sunday afternoon before leaving. From my window, I can see Eric pull her into a tight hug in the parking lot, resting his forehead against hers for a long moment before they pull away, but not before Felicia presses a kiss into Eric's forehead. Letting my drapes fall back into place, I grab a seat and bury my head in my hands, wondering what it is that I want exactly.

I want Eric. I figured that out when I just about keeled over with jealousy when I saw Felicia sitting in his lap.

Eric wants me. That's just common knowledge. The question is whether or not I'm ready to let myself fall for him, because evidently it's pretty damn easy to.

As if sensing my thoughts, Eric pauses in my doorway at that moment to call out a timid "hey".

"Hey, come on in. Felicia leave already?" Not that I was watching you like a stalker-slash-creep. Nodding with an adorable pout, Eric flops on my bed, his large frame somehow managing to make my massive bed appear small. "Awww, there there." I move to perch on the edge of the mattress to pat his shoulder. Rolling to his side, he rests his head in my lap and I find myself stroking his hair, finger-combing it back from his face to elicit a sigh of contentment.

"Hmm, that feels good," he murmurs happily and I have to hold back the giggle when I observe that he's just like a big kitty. There's a part of me that's aware of the lines he's crossing if I want us to be just friends, but I'm totally content in letting him, loving this feeling of being wanted.

"So you guys have been friends for a long time, huh?"

"Mmhmm," he murmurs. "My aunt and her mom used to go to the same cardio class at the YMCA. They used to drop us off at the childcare and we ended up being friends, I guess."

"She's older than you?"

"By a year. It was never a big deal for us somehow, even though she used to pull the age card all the time to get her way. She still does." He laughs a little, his eyes closed.

"You guys seem really tight." I'll admit that I'm curious, wanting to test the waters in case… In case I decide that this is worth it. That he is worth it. Eric grumbles in my lap and I realize that my fingers have stopped moving. Once he's satisfied that I've resumed the motion and I'm not stopping again, he speaks.

"She's like my sister. I missed her a lot this year," his voice catches almost imperceptibly and I wonder if there is something he's not telling me, if whatever it is has anything to do with what Felicia alluded to.

"Yeah, but I guess now that she's back, things will be better. Although you are still pretty far, I guess."

"It's okay," he shrugs, an awkward gesture considering he's lying down. "Felicia in Osoyoos is better than Felicia in Europe. I'll take what I can get." Moving onto his back, Eric regards me thoughtfully. "She really liked you."

"Did she? I'm glad she approves."

"Mmhmm, Told me I should kiss you."

"What did you tell her?"

"That I already have."

"And what'd she say?" I ask quietly, feeling frozen.

"That I should do it again."

I consider that for a moment and then move back a little so he sits up, a little farther away than absolutely necessary. "And are you going to?" My voice has dropped in decibels, quiet and unsure, and he grins to say that he has been thinking about it so I quirk a brow as if to say, _what the hell are you waiting for? _With a sudden movement, he hooks his hands under my knees and pulls me into his lap, my legs straddling his waist. I squeal in shock and clutch his biceps, digging my nails into his flesh. Arms wrap around my waist, not dropping any lower than is respectable and I slowly relax in his arms.

"Hey," he grins and I return the sentiment, albeit more breathlessly. Eric takes his time, nuzzling the line of my jaw and leaning forward, his lips mere millimeters away from mine just to back off. Frustrated, I surge forward and capture his lips with mine, my moan mirroring the low groan I manage to elicit. His lips are soft as I remember and he smells like a mix of his aftershave and cologne. My hands travel up the line of his shoulders to cup his face and tangle in his hair, finding their place among the wheat-coloured strands while his hands sneak under my shirt to rest against my lower back. Deepening the kiss, Eric turns and deposits me on the bed to cover my body with his larger one. Our legs tangle and I let my hands roam under his shirt to trace the contours of his back. His skin is so warm that I sigh into his mouth, enjoying the weight of his body atop mine. When I notice his hands hesitantly playing with the hem of my shirt, I take one and move it to my breast, under my shirt, smiling shyly up at him. He groans and palms it, moving to mouth at my neck.

"You smell amazing," he murmurs and I tug his face back up to mine.

"You're a really good kisser," I grin and tug his bottom lip into my mouth. I grant him easy access when his tongue seeks entry and we continue kissing until I can feel his hardness press against my thigh and I draw the line, pulling his face gently away from mine.

"We should stop," I pant and his blue eyes flash, his lovely lips red and swollen with our prolonged makeout session.

"Okay," he nods and sits back to help me up. Still shaking, I straighten my shirt and run a hand through my hair to get rid of the freshly-groped look. I'm pleased to see Eric appearing as dazed as I feel and I can't help leering when he adjusts his jeans and fixes his own hair.

"I'm sensing progress on the liking-me front," he grins right back and I roll my eyes.

"Get out," I swat him playfully.

"Dinner Friday night?" he asks as I usher him away.

"Yes. Out."

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Yes!" I can't help laughing at the pure happiness on his face when he turns to face me in the hallway. Leaning forward, his gives me a sweet lingering kiss and smiles before turning back into his own room.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Have I mentioned before how awesome you guys are? Once again, thank you for your kind words, they made me get back to work, and I'm already ahead by ten chapters! Please do keep up the good work, by pressing the little blue button at the bottom, and lemme know what y'all think!

P.S. If you think a word is spelled funny, it's 'cause it's spelled the _Canadian_ way. That is all.

_Chapter 3_

**Mid-October 2010**

**Eric**

My hands are gripping Sookie's hips, and hers rest on my chest as our hips sway to the music. It's hot, and our skin is sticky from sweat, but I could care less because with a tiny quirk of my head, my mouth is right in front of hers. There's a single moment's pause, and I can swear she gasps in the second before she pulls my face down to hers. We're still moving, grinding to the music, and I'm so hard for her I think I might burst. Her lips break away to sweetly kiss the tip of my nose, innocently, like she's not grinding against me.

"I want you so badly," I hiss, my voice getting lost in the music. Seeming to hear them regardless, Sookie turns in my arms, her ass rubbing against my erection just as the music changes, a shrill ringing cutting through the thumping of the bass. I wait for it to fade, to meld into a rhythm, because Sookie is still rubbing my cock and I want fucking _more, _if only the fucking ringing would stop.

But it doesn't.

And suddenly, I'm no longer at a club with Sookie's body pushed against mine, but rather tangled in my sheets with the most severe erection I've ever experienced in my entire life. I take care of it in the shower, as I've done so many mornings in the past six or so weeks, and head to class. There is no way I can pay any attention to my lectures the entire day, and rush home when I can to get ready. I'm planning on taking Sookie to _Leonardo's _for our first date, and maybe afterwards we can walk around a bit, but I'm going to be flexible with what she wants to do. Finally settling on a pair of black jeans and a light blue dress shirt that I leave untucked, I dab on some cologne before heading over to knock on Sookie's door. I take a deep breath, the door swings open, and the breath refuses to come back out. She looks stunning, in a sleeveless flimsy-looking dress and red fuck-me heels. Not as in, fuck her, but as in fuck me, I have to be a gentleman with her in those.

"Hi," Sookie grins and the air rushes out.

"Hi. Hey," I shake my head and hold out the single rose I got her.

"Aww, thank you. Uhm, I'd invite you in but there's nothing I can offer you, so…" She gestures awkwardly, blushing probably because there is quite a bit she can offer me in her bedroom, but I still giver her nod and a smile. I watch as she places the rose on her pillow and locks her door, and take her hand as we make our way to the elevators. We walk to the parking lot together and I open the passenger door, taking note of the way she hesitates when I do. I can't decide if it's because she's still unsure about our date or because she has some crazy notion that I think she can't open the car door herself. Regardless, I close the door and hop in. The traffic is a bit of a bitch, but it's Vancouver so it's to be expected, and we have plenty of time before our reservation. Conversation flows comfortably as we discuss our week, and I thank God that we're already friends because I pick music that I know she'll enjoy and she shoots me a grateful look.

"So Flick added me on Facebook," she tells me with a bemused grin.

"Oh God." I love my best friend, but she occasionally takes a perverse pleasure in making my life difficult. "Did she, did you guys, what'd she say?"

She laughs and I shoot her a quick look to determine if it's a nervous reaction or not. "Eric, it's fine. I like her. And she asked me if I was excited about our date." This time I'm trying to gauge if she's displeased that I told my friend about our date, but she doesn't really seem to be upset.

"I tell her everything," I explain.

"I understand," she assures me. "I told Amelia. I mean, it's a date, it's not a spy mission to retrieve weaponry from a nuclear silo."

"I told her about that too."

"Right." She grins. "I do have a question for you though, and I want to get it out of the way so I don't spend the next few hours wondering about the answer when I'd much rather be enjoying our time." I incline for her to go on. "You and Flick. I don't want you to think that I'm the crazy person who doesn't like it when the guy I date has chick friends. It's just that I wonder, you know, since you've been friends for ever, if you've ever been more than just friends." I open my mouth to speak but she steamrolls right over me. "It won't change anything, not how I feel about either one of you, I just would like to know. I'd like to know if someone I know used to be more than just somebody to you just like I will return the favour. I see no reason to hide my dating history from you and I'd hope you would feel the same."

"Sook, it's fine," I assure her, a bit amused by her outburst. "We've kissed, a few times over the years but it was always when one of us was feeling vulnerable. We've always been so close, I guess we wondered if we could ever be anything more, and we've talked about it, but we don't want that." We're almost at the restaurant and I pause, chuckling a bit as I continue, "You know about why she went to Europe?" Flick had mentioned something to me about telling Sookie. She nods. "Before she left, when she was still in the crying stage, I promised her that if we're both single by the time we're 40, I'll propose to her." I'm pleased to hear her giggle and I smile back.

"Really?"

"Really." I find a parking spot and pull into it, stopping the car but making no move to get out. "But not because I'm in love with her. But if I'm 40 and without any hope of finding someone to spend the rest of my life with, then I would want it to be Flick." I shrug. I don't think we'll go through with it, neither one of us is too fond of settling and no matter how much we love each other, marriage would be settling. Sookie doesn't seem too concerned though, so I incline my head towards the restaurant.

"Shall we?"

"We shall."

I take her hand without even thinking about it and she smiles at me as she follows me to the tiny restaurant. She asks me how I know about it and I answer without thinking, that my parents came here on their first date and then I pause, wondering if I've said too much but she takes it in stride and _awww'_s at me. Relieved, I lead her inside and ask for our table.

**Sookie**

I see a little panic in his eyes right after he tells me that his parents came to _Leonardo's _for their first date, probably worried that the implication of that might scare me away. He had told me, weeks ago, about his dad meeting his mom while he was in Vancouver visiting his sister, the sister that would become Eric's guardian. Annika, who was herself of Swedish descent, had moved back to Stockholm for Gus after months of long-distance dating. They had gotten married a few months later, and had Eric not long after that.

Now, I aww appropriately at his admission, and see relief flood his features. It's a cute place and the food is great, and I love that he seems a little nervous and that he has taken me out to an actual fancy restaurant where most 18-year-olds would have planned for a movie and dinner at Olive Garden. We do end up going to the movies but only because I tell him I want to find an empty theatre to make out with him in. His eyes light up and I can't help laughing, feeling light and happy as we walk back to his car afterwards without the slightest idea of what the movie was about. He walks me back to my room which is cute considering we live two steps away from each other, but he does and belatedly tells me that I'm gorgeous.

Not "you look gorgeous".

"You are gorgeous."

I thank him, feeling shy and unsure of what his expectations are now, after we've already made out twice in the past week – well, made out once and kissed another time – because I'm not sure I want him back in my room, where bad choices will no doubt be made.

Kissing my cheek, he draws my attention to how much of a gentleman he's being before muttering, "Oh, who the hell am I kidding," and kissing me sweetly on the mouth.

"Maybe we can do this again sometime?" he asks, the nerves that had disappeared after dinner making an appearance once again in his eyes.

"I'd like that. Thank you for the wonderful night." I smile. Pressing another kiss to my forehead, he whispers a goodnight and I step into my room to shut the door and peer through the peephole. I beam when I see him trace his lips with a finger and slump against the wall, trying to run a hand through his hair but pulling back when he remembers he styled it. I turn away to undress and a few minutes later, we run into each other on our way to the bathroom. I smile before heading in the opposite direction and, afterwards, I slow my steps as I reach my room, waiting for him to emerge.

"Hey," he calls quietly when he does, apparently incapable of losing the smile just like I am. We stare at each for a moment before I reach up to put my arms around his shoulders. Effortlessly lifting me up, I wrap my legs around his waist and I kiss him. It's sweet and wordless, and I love the solid feel of him in my arms. He puts me down when the kiss ends and I wish him goodnight, for good this time.

888

Our next date is more relaxed; we watch the University of Vancouver Pandas play volleyball against the University of Alberta Golden Bears. I've only been to a couple of hockey games and a few basketball ones and, despite not being a very devoted fan, I can't help getting into it sitting in the crowd. Amelia and I paint Tray and Eric's faces, smearing blue and white on their cheeks to help them display their devotion to the Pandas, considering Tray is on the hockey team and Eric is on the soccer one. Once at the game, the four of us join Tara – whose boyfriend Eggs is on the team – and cheer until we're blue in the face, some of us more literally than others. We lose, but end up walking back to res in high spirits. I'm not quite convinced my mood is all due to the spirit of the sport however, especially not when Eric is clasping my hand as he talks to Tray and I talk to Amelia. I also can't help feeling like Eric is fitting particularly well into my group of friends, both old and new, and it's a nice feeling. Unlike some girls I know who hate it when their boyfriends befriend everyone in their social circle, I find it somewhat flattering that he's trying. I smile, listening to the boys compare training schedules and Amelia moves closer to me, Tara having left us in favour of waiting for Eggs to emerge after the game.

"You two seem to be getting along pretty well, huh?" My best friend grins at me and I roll my eyes but I can't help returning the smile. "I'm happy for you, Sook," she offers sincerely.

"Thank you, Mel."

"What are you thanking her for?" Eric asks, dropping my hand only to put an arm around my shoulders, my waist being too low for his ridiculous height. I wrap my own arm around his waist.

"Nothing," I smile up at him.

"Oh yeah?" Without breaking his stride, Eric presses his lips to my temple and we continue walking.

I had offered to cook dinner for us but Eric insisted he help, so the two of us spend the next little while throwing together a casserole. We have dinner in Eric's room, sitting cross-legged in front of his TV while watching episodes of _How I Met Your Mother,_ which I find out is Eric's favourite TV show. I've never watched it but it turns out to be hilarious and we pause it to scramble back to the kitchen, quickly wash up and grab slices of cheesecake I bought earlier from the common fridge. Eric chuckles at the bold letters scribbled on the container claiming the cake as mine but doesn't say anything, and soon we're back in front of the TV. Lying down on the bed once we're done dessert, Eric wraps his arms around me and we continue watching until his lips begin doing some very distracting things to the back of my neck. Gingerly rolling over, I trace the lines of his lips before pressing my own against them and the kiss, as it often does, becomes very heated very fast. His fingers slowly creep under my shirt, gauging my reaction as they travel to the clasp of my bra and I give him my consent by pulling away to take it, and my shirt, off. We continue kissing for a while longer while his fingers tease my nipples until he sits up to abandon my mouth in favour of the hard buds. I can't help moaning, tugging on his hair and arching my chest into his mouth.

"Tell me what you want," he pants into my flesh.

"I want your shirt off."

He quickly tugs it off and I almost drool, choosing instead to examine the hard muscular planes with my mouth and fingers. He groans in appreciation when I roughly lick his nipples.

"Bite, a little."

When I do, I'm rewarded with another groan, this one louder, and the rocking of a specific part of his anatomy that is greatly enjoying my attentions. Suddenly, he flips us so that I'm on the bottom and I groan, hiding my face in my hands.

"What," he asks, backing off a little. "Did I do something wrong?"

Without looking at him, I shake my head.

"What is it? Words, Sookie," he chuckles a little.

"I'm upset because we should stop, but I don't _want_ to stop, or my body doesn't at least, but if we don't, I'm going to regret it later."

He laughs a bit more and sits back on his haunches after a long moment to retrieve my shirt and bra. "Then we'll stop." He hooks it up for me and goes as far as to tug the thin sweater back over my head. "There," he rubs my sides, "all prim and proper again." I shoot him a shy smile but pout again when he reaches for his own shirt.

"What?" He raises a brow.

"Do you _have_ to wear a shirt?"

"Do you?"

"Touché," I sigh. I watch him pull his shirt back on. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For blue-balling you," I mutter, blushing.

He shrugs, not exactly pleased but not displeased either. "I'm sure you're not faring that well either." When my blush deepens, he laughs and bends forward to kiss me, not touching any part of me save for my lips. "See? I'm okay with just kissing you. You're a good kisser."

"Thank you," I smile "And you can't be okay with _just_ kissing, I'm not naïve enough to fall for that."

"Are you asking me if I want you?" Eric asks with an amused smile. "I thought that part was pretty evident," he adds and my eyes flit down to the bulge in his jeans and he grins. "But in case you were wondering, yes, I want you. But you need to want me too, and be okay with wanting me, otherwise things won't exactly turn out well, so I can wait."

"You're pretty great, you know that?" I lean forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, lingering to capture his bottom lip briefly before sitting back.

"Just trying to keep up."

"Smooth talker," I say, rolling my eyes. "I had a great time today."

"Me too," he pushes my hair behind my ear. "I like you a lot, Miss Stackhouse."

"I like you too," I smile.

"So, we can do this again?"

I pretend to think about it for a second. "I think so."

"Glad you're so sure," he rolls his eyes but then grins. "Can I kiss you again?"

"I think so," I repeat, smiling as he pulls me close.

888

We go on a couple more dates throughout the next few weeks. Eric spends a couple of nights in my bed when we fall asleep watching a movie together and I wake up each time when he kisses my forehead before he goes for his morning run. In my head, I begin thinking of him as mine, a little more every time I'm the first recipient of his smile when he walks into a room. He tones down the flirting when it comes to other girls quite a bit when we start getting more serious, but seems a bit confused when I express my discomfort with public displays of affection in the 7th floor lounge.

"But you seemed okay with it when we went out, right?"

"I was! I mean, I am. It's just an extension of the not wanting to date someone I live with thing. I just don't want to be _that_ couple on the floor."

"_That_ couple?"

"You know, the couple that are always all over each other when they're together, because they're _always_ there, and then everyone thinks that just because they see them together, they have a right to get involved in their business."

"So it's a privacy thing?"

"It's a it's-none-of-anyone-else's-business-if-we're-together thing."

"Right," he nods slowly, obviously not quite understanding what I'm getting at.

"It's not because of you. It has nothing to do with you."

"So it's not because you're worried about what people will think of you that we're together?"

"I don't care if they know we're together, Eric. I mean, I'm excited about you and I want to be able to tell people that I'm with someone as awesome as you, I just don't want us to be all over each other in front of other people, especially people we live with." He considers that for a moment. "I know you're quite affectionate, and I love that. Really, I do, but don't you hate feeling like everyone is hyper-aware of us every time we touch in front of everyone else?"

"I can't say I had thought about it. I don't think it would bother me because I don't really care whether they're watching us because I like you, and I like being with you."

"Aww, that's sweet honey, but it's just…" I sigh, not sure I want to tell him this next part but feeling that I have to. "Quinn and I were like that. If we weren't busy with homework, I'd always be on his floor or he'd be on mine, to the point where everyone just associated us with the other. If I was sitting in the lounge by myself, everyone would ask me where Quinn was and I _hated_ that. It was like I wasn't an individual, just a half of a whole that I didn't particularly enjoy being a part of. And when we broke up, everyone felt they knew our relationship well enough to come up to me and ask me if I was okay, with this horrible horrible condescending tone. And I don't _do_ that. I barely tell Amelia anything and what I tell her is because she's my best friend, and she understands that I'm just a private person."

"So you don't want to be touchy feely in public, I get it."

"That's not it, I _want_ to hold your hand when we walk down the street and I will kiss you whenever I want to, but I don't see a need to be all over each other if we're in a room with other people. When we're alone, I _will_ be all over you because I _want_ to be all over you. I just don't feel comfortable in front of people we live with and see every day."

"Sookie," he pouts.

"I'm sorry," I pout back. "Please don't think this is because I don't want to be with you, or because I don't want to let it be known that we're together. Actually, if we're at a party, I _will_ let it be known that you're mine because bitches had better step off."

He cracks a smile and I move to straddle his lap. "Okay, I think I can get used to that. As long as we make out a lot when we're alone. And I'm talking _a lot_."

Laughing, I say, "I think I can manage that."

"Can you?" he asks, quirking a brow.

"I think so," I nod and drop my head to kiss his neck.

"So far so good," he murmurs and the next minute he's on top of me.

So it's good. Better than good, actually, because he's pretty fantastic and really good-looking and funny. And he likes me, if the way his eyes and hands always seek me out are any indication. He greets me with a kiss every time we see each other, and we take turns cooking meals whenever we get tired of cafeteria food.

And the other stuff is great too. Pretty fucking amazing; he's a fantastic kisser and asks me what I want, which is the hottest thing I have ever been asked mid-makeout.

Spooning me as we watch a movie one night in his bed, he kisses my shoulder and quietly asks me if I want to be his girlfriend. Rolling over in his arms, I grin and respond with a 'maybe', giggling when he presses his lips to mine and calls me _his_. I suppress the urge to nip that shit in the bud but instead ask him if he's mine too, because I want him to be. I want to hold his hand and know that mine is the only one he holds.

He tells me that he's been mine since the first time he laid eyes on me.

I'm disgustingly happy.

Even Amelia has to admit that Eric and I are more disgusting than her and Tray, which is saying quite a lot. Tara, being a newer friend of mine, watches in amusement every time I perk up when Eric is near, but concedes that I don't look the kind to be that bubbly, so this is something new for me.

**Eric**

I awaken, from strange dreams involving Frodo Baggins hitting on my girlfriend, and open my eyes to find my vision blocked by a head full of blonde hair. The dream is easily explained by us having fallen asleep to _The Two Towers_ last night, which is my least favourite of the trilogy, but Sookie had refused to skip it in our marathon. Quietly, I slip out of her bed to use the bathroom and brush my teeth before returning to fit my body around Sookie's, and smile when she tugs my arm around her waist.

"Wake up," I whisper into her hair.

She groans and hides her face in the pillow. "Five more minutes, baby." I smirk, liking this nickname as long as it doesn't end up replacing my name. Pam used to call me 'babe', and I had sort of hated that. Pam. I push that thought aside.

"It's eleven, come on." It's Saturday, and I had been looking forward to spending the day with Sookie, doing nothing productive.

"Seriously? I slept like the dead." She rolls over and squints at me, rubbing her eyes to clear her vision. "Hi," she grins.

"Hi." I grin back and lean forward to kiss her.

"Mm, you taste like mint, and I've got morning breath. Thanks for the confidence hit, Northman."

"I don't care about your morning breath. Did you wash your face last night?" There is no hint of mascara on her face.

"Yeah, I woke up around midnight and turned my laptop off and got ready for bed. You'll notice I'm not wearing jeans."

I peek under the comforter. "Nope, just panties. Nice, Stackhouse."

"It was too warm, with you in my bed." She pouts, tugging the comforter back as I try to will away my hard-on.

"What do you want to do today?"

"I was thinking we could go out, walk around? It looks like a nice day." It _is_ a nice day, if the warm breeze blowing through her open window is any indication. A rarity too, considering it's early November, and it's sunny without a hint of clouds in the sky.

"Are you going to wear shorts?" I raise a brow at her and she raises one back.

"Are you going to wear that v-neck shirt?" Ah, the one that makes her eyes smolder.

"Are we making a deal?"

"Yes."

"Well in that case, deal."

I give her some time to shower and get ready, while I get dressed and laze around for a bit. She knocks on my door just under an hour later, her hair still damp and her legs looking miles long in what I call her fancy shorts.

"Ready to go?"

"Yup. Is your bag big enough?" I'm pretty sure she could fit herself in there. She raises a brow. "I mean, nice bag. I like it. Shall we?"

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise." I take her hand as we head to the parking lot and to my crappy Volvo. In the car, I give her a look as I see her scroll down to Lady Gaga on her iPod, and she sighs and selects a Justin Nozuka album in its place. It's a fair compromise, neither of our favourites, and I smile, stealing a kiss before backing the car out of its spot. The traffic is pretty bad, so it takes just over a half hour before I'm pulling into a parking spot on Bute Street, just off of Robson. I feed the meter and take Sookie's hand again, walking the short distance to the intersection of the two streets and into probably my favourite restaurant. There's a line, as usual, but it gives me enough time to explain the concept of Steamrollers to Sookie. It's a burrito place, everything cooked with – predictably – steam to make it healthier. She regards the menu carefully for several minutes before settling on the Deluxe Beef. I give our order, picking a Super Deluxe Beef for myself and promising to share my guacamole. We take our heaping plates of food to one of the tables outside and I watch as Sookie digs in, moaning at the first bite like I knew she would.

"Steam-cooked food should _not_ taste this good!" I grin knowingly and follow her lead, digging into the Spanish rice and pinto beans before getting started on the burrito itself. My girlfriend clears her throat pointedly at one point, and I surrender half of my scoop of guacamole, accepting a sip of her Dr Pepper in return for my generosity. We stuff ourselves full and begin wandering down Robson, enjoying the sun. Sookie drags me into Guess and tries on a few dresses that make my pants incredibly tight, and pouts at the price tags before leading me out despite my insistence that I will pay. I can sense her watching my face, trying to gauge my level of tolerance as we approach Aritzia and she asks me if we can go in. I can't say no to her, but pay attention to the things she likes just in case things continue to go well and I need to buy her a present at some point. Christmas is coming up. Watching her sigh, for the tenth time, at the price tag, I ask why it is she insists on shopping at stores she can't afford and she shoots me the kind of look that screams I better watch myself, and I shut up. We walk several more blocks before turning around, grabbing iced mochas at Starbucks from across the street. Sookie finally buys some sort of hair cream from Kiehl's and, taking a look at the shelves, I grab an aftershave and a styling gel myself. Less than a block away from the car, we pass La Senza and I give her a pointed look.

"What, you want to go in?"

"Do _you_ want to go in?"

"Eric, will you accompany me inside La Senza?" She smiles, humouring me, and I grumble but immediately follow her inside. I grimace at some of the items, like the leopard-print negligee, and she laughs at me.

"You should buy this." I nudge the hot pink, lacy bra.

"Either you're concerned about the wellbeing of my breasts, or you're assuming you'll get to see me wear it, in which case I can't imagine what gave you that idea." She bats her eyelashes, innocently, and I growl, pulling her close for a kiss. "Hmm, well, I do need a new bra. So you like this one?"

"Yes." Pulling her body flush against mine, I let her feel just how much I like the visual of her in _that_, and she blushes. I wander away as she goes to try it on, declining my offer to help, and she emerges a few minutes later to make the purchase. I'm trying to figure out the straps on some fancy push-up bra when she finds me.

"They cross in the back."

"Ahhh."

"Ready to go?"

We head home not long after, and curl up on her bed for an afternoon nap.

888

I figure out just how much it will suck if I lose her the day Quinn runs into us as we have lunch. I had been whispering in her ear, telling her exactly what I like about the heels she wore to our first date when I had looked over and there he was. I watch her walk away with him and for a fleeting second, imagine she won't be walking back and I have to take a deep breath. I watch them out of the corner of my eye as I dip a carrot in ranch dressing and pop it into my mouth, and then give up and just watch them. She has this guarded look on her face that I used to be very familiar with but now rarely get to see. He smiles, and a moment later they share a laugh before parting with a hug and – I tense up – a kiss to my girlfriend's forehead. For a brief second, I see what she saw in him and get to see what they looked like together. She looks happier with me, I observe. More free, maybe. With him, she tenses at his touch, or maybe that's because they're broken up and she can tell I'm watching. Walking back towards me, her face lights up and she sits in my lap.

"So you guys are getting back together, huh?"

"Yup. Sorry."

"Ah. I guess I should have known." I shrug it off and she kisses me, soft and lingering. "The two of you are okay now?" I ask not because I care, but because I know she does.

"I think so. I don't think we'll be friends, not for a long while, but we're okay." She looks at me like she's afraid that I'm going to have a bad reaction but there's really nothing for me to react to. If they're on alright terms, then that means less stress for her and I'm all for that. My mind drifts to my own ex and I shut down that train of thought instantly, even though I know I have to tell Sookie, soon.

"I can still dislike him, right?" I ask, to lighten the mood and to make sure she knows that I'm not going to be okay with her exes.

"Oh yeah," she grins, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and bending down to give me another kiss.

* * *

A/N: Canadian store lesson (except for Kiehl's):

Steamrollers:

www[dot]steamrollers[dot]com

Aritzia:

www[dot]aritzia[dot]com

Kiehl's:

www[dot]kiehls[dot]com

La Senza:

www[dot]lasenza[dot]com


	4. Interlude

_Interlude: _**Halloween**

"You look like a slut," Amelia observes, though knowing her, that's a compliment.

"You think so?" I stand on the bed to get a full-length look at myself. I do look somewhat slutty, but I forgive myself knowing that I'm not trying to get the attention of boys; well, just one boy.

The skirt is short, barely mid-thigh, and ripped for a "wild" look. I tug the skintight fabric down, and turn around to make sure my ass is covered. The dress has a sweetheart neckline, which I sort of love, and I'm wearing matching bright green ballet flats with it, with little pompoms on them. Amelia helps me with the wings, and I double-check my makeup and the bun at the top of my head one last time before we head out. Tray and Eric are waiting in the floor lounge, and both perk up when they see us. We hadn't told our boyfriends about our costumes, and they hadn't shared any information about their costumes either, so our mouths fall open as we get at our first look at the boys.

"Wow," my best friend breathes, and I have to agree. Tray is dressed as Don Draper from _Mad Men_, and I can practically read Amelia's mind as she takes him in. He even has a cigar trapped between his teeth, I observe before I move on to my guy, licking my lips as I let my eyes drag up his body.

"Danny?" I ask. _Grease_.

"Yup." Eric grins. His hair is styled back with some sort of black goop, the front curling ridiculously. I can see the outline of his abs through the tight white t-shirt. Christ, he's sexy. "Tinkerbell?"

"Yup."

He pulls me close and bends down to whisper in my ear. "Christ, you're sexy."

I giggle and capture his lips, gripping the front of his leather jacket. We break apart when we're interrupted by several gagging noises and I hide my face in Eric's shirt while he tells Hoyt that he needs to get a life and let him kiss his girlfriend. Hoyt laughs and turns back to Jess, to whom he had been speaking. I stretch up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek, and turn around to find Amelia and Tray still going at it. Eric, apparently intent on spreading the cock-blocking love, punches Tray in the bicep and the latter pulls away from Amelia's mouth with a gross sound.

"Dude!"

"Stop sucking face. We should go." To Vinyl, for their annual costumes-mandatory Halloween bash. I didn't go last year, because I had no interest in dressing like a slut and grinding with Quinn in public. Apparently I do now.

Or maybe I just have more interest in grinding with Eric. Unless…

"Are you wearing white socks?"

"I had to remain true to the character." He shrugs and punches the elevator button. I gag, playfully, and he bends down to kiss me again.

"Admit it, you like this."

"I like that I'm dating Danny Zuko. Can you sing _Greased Lightning_?"

"Kenickie sings that," he raises a brow at me as our friends, the usuals plus a few more from the seventh floor, pile into the elevator behind us. Eric's knowledge of musicals is shocking, and a bit alarming.

"Sing it anyways."

"Later. I'll sing you _Summer Nights_ too," he smiles down at me, and I grin widely. I lovelovelove his voice, and he's so talented it blows my mind that he doesn't like to show off. He grasps my hand and we follow him out to his car. He's driving again, like he did the night I fought with Quinn, and he kissed me. We reach the club and get into the line outside, joining so many of our peers. I'm so excited; this is Eric and I's first time going _out_ out, as a couple. He was so much fun that night, dancing with me, and I now remember that he had barely paid any attention to anybody other than me. We finally get inside, showing our IDs and getting into a minor argument with Eric over his paying for my cover charge, which he insists on doing, promising to let me cover it next time. The club is already crowded by that point, and we get drinks before heading to the dance floor, Eric opting for a Coke to keep sober. It takes us a couple of songs to get into it, but soon I'm pressed up against my boyfriend, barely keeping myself on the decent end of the dancing spectrum. His hands gripping my hips, we sway to the music and I grin up at him, loving the feel of his heated body even inside the warm club. My grin widens when I feel his hardness against me and I wink, twisting in his arms to rub my ass against him. Head dropping to my bare shoulder, Eric hisses my name and drops his hands to tug the hem of my dress down before resting his hands on my hips. With the ending of the song, I drag Eric back to the bar where he buys me another drink and laughs at me as I down it in one rapid gulp. I freaking love Amaretto Sours, and blow a raspberry at him before leading us back to the dance floor. We keep barely-not-dirty dancing, taking regular breaks for me to down more alcohol until I'm drunk and all over Eric.

"Alright, time to go home," he laughs and I pout, whining even as we say bye to Amelia and Tray, and wait in the coat check line. Fifteen minutes later, I'm slumping heavily into his body as we walk to where the car is parked a couple of blocks away.

"You're so sexy. I want you." I slur, and he sweeps me up into his arms before I fall over.

"I'm yours, you just have to say the word."

"Okay, I'll say the word," I giggle. "The word. The woooooooooord. What is the word?"

"It's more of a sentence." Eric laughs and sets me down to open the passenger door. I crawl inside, gracelessly taking a seat. I feel like my dress has slid up and my ass is in direct contact with the seat. Leaning my head against the window, I roll my eyes and wait for him to join me in the car.

"What is the sentence?"

"It's 'Eric, I'm stone-cold sober and I would like to fornicate with you'." He's smiling slyly and I frown in response, mouthing 'fornicate' and failing at repeating the sentence. My mouth somehow can't even form 'stone-cold'.

"I wanna fuck you." I mumble. I have no clue if he can even hear me as he's driving. "You're such a sexy boyfriend. Sex-me boyfriend, sex-y boyfriend." I giggle.

"What are you saying?" He laughs at me and I pout once again.

"Nothing." I'm so sleepy, and horny. I shoot a sidelong glance towards him, and feel my lady bits respond. Eric has to carry me out of the car and all the way to my room, where he patiently waits for me to fumble with my keys and unlock my door. Waggling my eyebrows, I let him undress me, helping me tug on sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. My strapless bra has to come off, and he obediently unhooks it without even sneaking a glance or a quick grope. I crawl into bed, and the next moment he's joining me under the covers, hair wet and goop-free.

"You're not Danny anymore," I whine. I must have fallen asleep for a little while, if he's showered and ready for bed.

"Nope. Just Eric."

I think about that. "Okay, I like Eric better anyways."

"I'm glad to hear that," my boyfriend laughs.

"Do you love me, Eric Northman?" I can barely keep my eyes open. I think I shouldn't have asked that, but I can't think of why not right now. He's not wearing a shirt.

"Go to sleep, Sookie Stackhouse."

"Why don't you love me?" I give him my best puppy dog eyes, actually upset.

"There's nothing not to love. I could love you soon." My eyes are closed, but I can feel him tuck my hair behind my ear.

"Will you tell me when you do?"

"Do you want me to?" His eyes are playful, bright with amusement.

"I think you should tell me when you love me. I could love you too."

"Yes ma'am."

"Do you promise?" I smile sweetly and he moves to capture my mouth in an even sweeter kiss.

"I promise."

I kiss him again, and eye him pointedly. He instigates the next kiss, and lets me deepen it until I'm climbing on top of him.

"Sookie," he pushes me gently away when I rub him through his sleep pants.

"Make me feel good," I whisper, and he groans a little.

"You're drunk."

"I won't regret this, I promise. Please, Eric." I'm drunk, I realize that, but sober enough to realize that I want him. Moaning, I grind myself against his hardness and watch his eyes roll back in their sockets. Apparently giving up and giving in, my boyfriend groans again and, sitting up, shoves his hand down my pants. "Oh God." I tug him out of his own pants and stroke him, slowly at first. Hissing my name, Eric dips a finger into my wetness and swirls it around my clit, and I buck into his hand. I squeeze my eyes shut when his finger thrusts inside me, and curls to find my sweet spot. I rub my thumb over his, and revel in his sounds even as he's giving me the holy grail of all handjobs. My head drops to his shoulder and I suck on his neck, speeding up the movement of my hand as his sounds grow more urgent. Eric adds a rub to my clit on the counter-rhythm of every stroke to my sweet spot inside, and soon I'm muffling my cries in his neck as I come in his hand. Thankfully, he's not far behind me and jerks with his own completion, murmuring endearments and compliments. We clean up, and I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow.


	5. Chapter 4

Hey guys, have an extra long chapter to make up for the short Interlude I posted. You finally get to find out Eric's backstory! Woohoo!

As always, you are all awesome and so are your reviews. Please, keep it up, I love hearing your thoughts after you read each chapter!

Once again, forgive any typos, since I'm my own beta on this story =]

* * *

_Chapter 4_

**Mid- to End of November**

**Sookie**

I tap my pen against my chin as I sit at my desk a couple of weeks later, contemplating how to word what I'm trying to say in my Psych 224 paper when there's a knocking at the door.

"Come in," I call out. "Sammy!" Grinning, I wave in my friend, mentally observing that I haven't really seen Sam since our Talk a few weeks ago

"I was working with Hoyt on our lab report and figured I'd drop by," he nods in the general direction of Hoyt's room, at the end of the hall. "What's up?" Sam asks, pulling me into a hug and holding me for a fraction of a second too long.

"Oh not too much, just doing some homework, ya know." I step a little farther back. "How have you been? How's pre-vet going?" I grin, knowing how he hates referring to his degree as pre-vet even though it is what he plans on doing eventually.

"_Bio Sci_," he emphasizes with a smile, "is going great. A lot of science. You know, same old."

"You don't say," I roll my eyes and we talk for a bit more until we're interrupted by a cool voice. My head snaps up to find Eric standing in my doorway, eyes darting between Sam and I.

"Eric," I beam. Sam offers a semi-friendly greeting, his face falling when Eric moves to stand next to me and puts his arm around my waist. Apparently, Sam's not quite over the concept of us being together and Eric seems to pick up on this. I take in the hostile expression on my boyfriend's face, and the uncomfortable one on Sam's during the long awkward silence that follow. Breaking the silence – but not the tension –Sam excuses himself, saying that we should go for coffee or something sometime before disappearing. Eric moves away from me the moment he's gone.

"What?"

"I didn't know you were friends again," he says coldly.

"We've always been friends, it just sorta slowed down. You know why."

He doesn't exactly appear convinced as he bites out, "Right."

"Eric, we're _just_ friends," I insist, growing frustrated. "I don't know why I'd even have to justify myself, you were there when I told him I wasn't interested. You were the one who told me I had to cut him loose-" Stopping when he snorts derisively and tosses me a disbelieving look, I scowl. "What is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem," he snaps defensively. "Forgive me if I'm not interested in being another one of the dozens of boys vying for your affections."

"Not interes- Eric, what the hell happened to you? We're together and now you're not interested? You were the one that chased me, remember?" He scoffs and turns away but I block his way to continue, "You seemed pretty damn interested when I turned you down, and _now_ you're having second thoughts? _Eric_," I slam the door shut when he reaches to swing it further open. When his nostrils flare in his anger is when I decide I am done, done pretending I'm okay with not knowing what happened to him, done waiting for him to come to me and tell me why the hell Felicia is so protective of him, why the hell he shuts down every now and then. "Who the hell screwed you over so badly that you can't trust me?" His eyes flash with anger and he steps towards me, bending down to really get into my space.

"Back off, Sookie," he warns me but in typical Sookie fashion, I suppose, I refuse to back down.

"Not until you tell me-"

"You don't get to have this talk with me, alright?" Eric hisses and it's so menacing, so hostile that I feel my demeanor cool.

"Fine," I bite out and he gives a curt nod to spin on his heel and march out. Two slammed doors later, I'm standing alone in my room wondering what the hell just happened.

888

Eventually I snap out of it and get back to my Psych paper, though it's nearly impossible to focus with our fight weighing on my mind. The next time I check my clock it's nearly ten and I have an excuse to get ready for bed. I pad down the hall and wash my face in the girls' bathroom, taking care of my other needs before returning to change into my PJs. Crawling under the covers, I curl up into the fetal position and fall asleep, what feels like hours later. I awaken, not to the sound of my alarm going off, but to that of someone knocking on my door.

"Ungh, who is it?" I grouse, stumbling the short distance between my bed and the door to yank it open and come face to face with Eric. "It's three AM, Eric," I complain.

"I know," he responds tersely, and to be honest, he looks like shit. Like he hasn't slept at all and that's saying a lot, considering how he likes to be up at six every morning. I pause in the doorway, considering my options before turning away, leaving the door open behind me. The way I see it, he can decide what it is that he wants from me, since he spent so much energy convincing me to want the same things he wants.

Well, wanted.

Back under the covers and curled away from the door, I hear him shut it softly behind him and join me under my comforter. Moving to lie on my side facing him, we stare at each other for a few minutes. I'm too tired to instigate a talk, frankly, so I lie on my back and let him tuck his face against my neck, throwing an arm over my abdomen.

"You've got some splainin' to do," I mumble, attempting to make light of the situation and he laughs, pressing a kiss into my neck before I fall into a much deeper sleep with him in my arms.

When I awaken at the right time, it's in an empty bed and I pout until I see the small heart drawn on my whiteboard. As disgruntled as I may be right now, I still beam with happiness and grab everything I need for a shower. About an hour later, I'm heading to my first class of the day, which happens to be Sociology.

_- Sorry, I needed a run and you looked like you needed sleep_, Eric's text explains out of the blue halfway through my second class.

_- Are you telling me I looked like shit in my sleep?_ I tease back, a grin forming on my face.

_- Nope, I'm trying to convey in a gentlemanly manner that I ogled you while you slept ;) _I crack up, stifling my giggles in my hand.

_- You know we still need to talk, right? I didn't appreciate what you did last night._

_- I know._

_- Dinner tonight?_

_- I'll cook._

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I can't help being excited about Eric's cooking. The rest of the day goes by in a bit of a blur, overshadowed by my anxiousness. I try to come up with various scenarios, things that may have happened to make him react so severely. Opting to do homework in the library, I don't actually make it back to my room until around five and by that time Eric is already in the floor kitchen, up to his elbows in this amazing spicy breaded chicken that he makes.

"There you are," he greets and I stand on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Sorry, I had to finish up an essay and I wouldn't have if I were here," I justify and excuse myself to go drop my bag off in my room. Quickly, I touch up my makeup and take off the hoodie and ratty t-shirt I had been wearing to replace them with a nicer t-shirt. Eric's practically done making dinner by the time I return and he deftly fixes us plates, putting the rest into plastic containers that we carry back to his room to sit cross-legged on his bed, facing each other. The chicken is great and I tell him so, his little nod the only sign of his pleasure at my words. We wash the dishes together afterwards and return to his room, happy and full. Leaning against his desk, I watch him take a seat on the edge of the bed and fiddle with his Gaelic-style ring.

"My ex was from Bon Temps," he begins quietly.

"That's how you knew where it is," I nod, understanding. Why else would anyone know where Bon Temps is? "Do I know her?"

Eric shrugs, "Maybe. The Ravenscrofts? Pam Ravenscroft." Of course. The Ravenscrofts were the richest family in Bon Temps, all blonde and blue-eyed, athletic and intelligent. The cream of the crop, save for the fact that they were all bitches. Even my Gran used to mutter angrily to herself whenever Mrs Ravenscroft or her husband were mentioned, though she would never talk ill of them. They had moved away when I had been in middle school, though I never knew to where. I remember that Pam had been gorgeous, in a petite way, and my insecurities wash over me to leave me cold.

"She's beautiful," I say quietly.

"She's dead," he retorts, just as quietly.

"What?" I hadn't known that, I hadn't even known they'd moved to Osoyoos in the first place, and nobody in Bon Temps had liked them enough to keep in touch with them, so it was no surprise that I hadn't been made aware of Pam's death.

"There was a car accident, last October. I was driving." He's not meeting my eyes and I drop to my knees in front of him, to take his hands in mine and try to catch his gaze.

"Oh Eric, I'm so so-"

"We were fighting," he interrupts, eyes latching on to mine defiantly. "We'd been at a Halloween party and I'd found out that she'd been cheating on me, with my best friend. I wasn't talking to her, she was begging me to say something, to yell at her, anything. I just wasn't talking to her. I was speeding, and I was going to drop her off at her house and never see her again. That would be it." Taking a deep breathe, he adds, "A drunk driver ran a red light, T-boned my car. I got a concussion and was out of it for a few days. The drunk driver died at the scene and Pam," he pauses to clear his throat and continue, "she was in a coma for two days before she died."

"Oh, Eric." I have nothing to say, no words I can think of that could possibly ease his pain, so I continue to hold his hands in mine.

"I loved her," he admits quietly, watching our clasped hands. "I thought I was in love with her and I thought she felt the same until I walked in on her straddling Clancy with her clothes on the floor."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Everybody says that," he chuckles bitterly. "I know it wasn't. I was angry at her, I didn't want her dead. And I was speeding, but that didn't mean I deserved what happened. Some idiot decided to drink and drive, and we happened to be forced to pay the price."

"But she broke your heart," I say softly and he opens his mouth to retort but I don't let him. "That's why you don't trust me. You think I'm like Pam? That's not fair to me, Eric. I don't treat you the way Pam treated you, so you have no right to treat me that way either. This is different, _we're_ different and we deserve for you to treat us like we have an actual chance and not like I'm going to cheat on you, because I'm not. I have no intention of hurting you that way, okay?"

"You seemed really guilty when I walked in," he mutters without looking at me.

"You know he likes me. And _I_ know you know he likes me, and I panicked because I didn't know how you were going to react and… I did consider dating him. Before you, I considered it but I think I decided not to because he's… he's not you."

Eric nods, still not meeting my gaze, and I cup his face in my hands and press my lips to his. "I like you, I like you a_ lot_, Eric. Remember how I said I didn't want to make things awkward with my neighbour?" He nods. "Cheating on you won't exactly keep things cordial between us, will it. Not to mention, it'd ruin what I suspect is a pretty fantastic thing we've got going." I smile when I see the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

"You're nothing like her," he murmurs, kissing me, and I understand he's talking about Pam.

"Glad to hear it." I grin and Eric hums in approval when I move to straddle his thighs. Soon I'm on top of him, kissing his neck and unbuttoning his plaid shirt. I love how he looks in that shirt. Most shirts. No shirt at all. Sitting up to shrug it off, he takes mine off as well and rolls us over to return the favour by kissing every inch of bare skin he can find. Arching my back off the bed, I let him unhook my bra and toss it into some corner, allowing his mouth to latch onto my nipples one at a time. He is such a breast man, and I fucking love it.

"Eric," I sigh and jerk when his hands unbutton my jeans and slip inside to rub at me through my panties.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks, moving his hand to rest it on the outside of my hip, clearly giving me the choice. We've gone this far before, a couple of times, but not often enough for him to be confident that I want it. I love that he's asking me, even tough there is no way I will shut him down at this point. I shake my head and reach up to unbutton his own jeans, tugging them off of his hips along with his boxers. With his length in my hand it's hard to not realize just how big he is, and how much it will undoubtedly hurt when I decide to take things further. Then his hand slips under my panties and into me, and I'm no longer thinking much at all, choosing instead to arch my back and buck my hips to get more of his touch. My own hand wraps around his length, spreading the moisture gathering at his tip and using it to jerk him off.

"God, fuck, _Sookie_." He thrusts into my hand, his own fingers not granting me any bit of reprieve as he explores me, developing a rhythm articulated with slower strokes or rougher ones that I savour and arch into.

"Eric," I gasp at the coil tightening in my abdomen, adding a twist to my movements, desperate to bring him as close as he is bringing me. His thumb spreads my moisture up to my nub and rubs at it while his finger inside me keeps a relentless pace. I moan into his ear when he adds a second finger, his hand moving faster and faster as the sounds I make grow louder and more desperate. Despite the pre-ograsmic haze clouding my perception, I manage to snap out of it long enough for my other hand to drop and touch his balls. He jerks, coming loudly just as his own fingers curl and stroke the spot deep inside me that sends me spasming into my own climax. His body slumps into mine even while his fingers stroke me through my orgasm and we stay that way for several long moments, to get our breathing and heartbeats under control. Eventually, he removes his hands and fixes my underwear, buttoning my pants for me.

"That was- You are-… Jesus Christ, Sookie."

I giggle dreamily, "I could say the same thing. That was kind of amazing."

"Kind of?" Eric grins and I have to roll my eyes, though playfully. Chuckling, he disentangles himself from my body, both of us groaning in distaste at the sticky mess he made on our stomachs. Pulling a washcloth out of a drawer, he wets it with a bottle of Dasani and cleans us both before we right our clothes and he tosses the cloth into his hamper.

"C'mere," I crook a finger from where I'm still sitting on his bed and he grins to join me, on top of me as is rapidly becoming the norm. We kiss, more sloppy than before, not to mention more tired and much more satisfied. Sliding down my body, Eric rests his head on my sternum to allow me to breathe, and we fall asleep like that.

888

Eric's confession turns out to be a piece of the puzzle I had been missing, and it sets me at ease that he trusts me enough to share his past with me. Even he appears to feel more comfortable now, and, to my utter delight, he's more affectionate. I curl up more often on his lap than I do in a seat, and I'm more often than not wrapped in his arms, in some form.

I adore him.

I'm obsessed with the scent of his cologne, with the comfort of his arms, with the sound of his laughter. He's so easy to be with, everything just falls into place. It's a few days later, when we're eating dinner in the cafeteria, that I get a glimpse of reality.

"Eric, why is that girl staring at you?" I ask quietly, growing uncomfortable and trying to mask it as I spoon more soup into my mouth.

It's not really anything new, considering the usual reaction Eric gets from straight girls and gay boys. But the particular girl in question has been staring at my boyfriend for the better part of the past half hour. I know her, vaguely. Tania; she lives on the fifth floor, and has a bit of a reputation for being easy, once she's had a couple of drinks.

"Where?" Eric asks. Quietly, I direct his attention to her and watch as his jaw tightens, his gaze dropping back to his dinner.

"Care to fill me in?" I raise a brow, borderline-amused but feeling myself tense at his reaction.

"She, uhm," he pushes a piece of chicken around on his plate.

"Yes?"

"We had sex once."

There's a beat and I ask, "Before me?"

"What? Oh god, yeah. I didn't- _Way_ before you, Sookie." He ducks down to catch my gaze when he notices how studiously I've been avoiding him. "Sookie?"

"Right, yeah, I'm listening. Before me. Gotcha. When, exactly?"

He thinks for a bit before responding. "Middle of September? Yeah." I push away from the table to pick up my tray and slot it into one of the carts full of dirty dishes.

"Sookie," he calls, following me out of the crowded hall. "Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad," I shrug, my hands shoved deep into my jeans' pockets as I wait for the elevator.

"Sookie," he sighs.

"I'm not mad!" I throw up my hands. "You had sex with her, good for you, she's hot."

"Well, you're not not-mad."

I can't help laughing a little. "Well, I'm irritated that some girl you had meaningless sex with lives two floors down from us, but I can't do anything about it, can I." Stepping into the elevator, I let him press the button. "And I don't like that you didn't think it was worth mentioning to me."

"I didn't think it was important," he mumbles.

"Didn't think it was important or didn't want to admit that it is?" I hold his gaze as the doors open and we step out onto the floor to wave at the few people lounging around the common room. We put our conversation on hold as we bypass the various couches and TV to head down our own wing. In my room, I take a seat in the middle of the bed and watch him uneasily take a stance against the opposite wall. I have to admit I'm enjoying watching him squirm and remain silent to prolong his agony.

"We weren't together," he justifies, a tad meekly.

"Yup," I agree. "But we live in the same building. You didn't think we'd run into each other? How would you feel if I failed to mention to you that I slept with someone we both see every day?"

"We don't see her _every_ day," he grumbles and, seeing my expression, adds, "but that's not the point. I get it. You're right, I should have told you, I'm sorry." Smiling, I hold out my arms. Pouting as he crawls into my arms, he ends up lying on top of my body. I laugh when he rests his head in the juncture of my shoulder and drapes his own arm across my waist in a position we have perfected, albeit in reverse.

"She was the only one, right?" I ask, the thought suddenly occurring to me that there could be others.

"I um, made out with Arlene once." Arlene being the floor slut. Arlene, with her dyed red hair and fake nails and entitled attitude.

"_Seriously?_"

"Ha, no. Though your faith in me is oddly reassuring." Eric nuzzles his face into my neck while I focus on getting my body to relax.

"Your jokes need some work."

"Don't lie, I'm hilarious."

"And so full of yourself. Was she good at least?"

There's a beat while he copes with my sudden topic change.

"She's not you."

"Ah, good answer, Mr Northman," I laugh and he nuzzles my neck again, placing a kiss into my skin that raises goosebumps. "I'm not ready yet," I say not because I want him to stop what he has begun to do to my body right now, but because the thought of my boyfriend getting instant gratification from some slutty blonde on the fifth floor does little to make me feel better about the whole waiting until I'm ready thing. Even though I'm not about to back down, because I'm not ready and I learned my lesson the first time, not waiting for someone I actually loved, and with Eric I actually feel like there's a chance it might not be just a short-term thing with someone I only sort of like.

The hand that had been about to slip under my shirt stops and rests on my stomach, tapping a finger over my belly button. "I know," he says like he's confused and not exactly sure why I'm bringing this up.

"I'm just saying. Just because she slept with you, doesn't mean I'm going to." Eric sits up, frowning down at me. "Really. That's crazy," he comments, his eyes cooling several degrees. "So you're saying that this charade I've been putting up for the past month to get into your pants isn't working?"

"I didn't say that, Eric."

"So you just wanted to emphasize the point that you're not some girl I get to have drunken meaningless sex with?"

"Eric…" I sit up, realizing just how big of a mistake I've made. "Honey, I didn't mean that."

He moves to the edge of the bed, facing away from me as he stares up at the ceiling. I move to sit behind him, one tentative hand on his arm and my head resting against his shoulder. "What do you think I'm doing?" he asks quietly. When I don't respond, unsure of what he's asking, he turns his head. "Why do you think I'm with you?" I don't know what to say. I'd like it to be because he's as crazy about me as I am about him, because he's falling for me, because I make him as happy as he makes me without even trying. The silence is dragging on though, and I have to do something before it suffocates me.

"Because you're crazy about me?" I joke weakly.

"Yes." I expect a grin but he's dead-serious and I have to do a mental double-take.

"Oh," I drop my gaze, smiling into my lap.

"I'm keenly aware of how much she's _not_ you," he continues. "She couldn't make me laugh like you do, and I didn't stay up all night thinking about her. And yeah, I'm not a huge fan of not having sex, especially when you look like that, but I'm okay with waiting for as long as it takes until you're ready because sex isn't exactly why I'm with you. And I'd hope you don't think that of me either."

"I don't," I tell my lap. "I just… I guess I don't think that much of myself. And she was pretty, and tiny, and I'm just… not her. I don't know why I reacted that way, I do know better than that."

"I'm with _you_. I _want_ to be with you. I have no interest in her."

"You _had_ an interest in her," I point out.

"For the course of one drunken night. And then I woke up and got my sanity back."

"And realized that, really, you're crazy about me?" I ask with a small smile.

"Once the hangover had worn off, yup." He smiles back and then leans forward to press his lips to mine. "And what the hell did you mean, you don't think that much of yourself?"

Laughing uncomfortably, I shrug. "I don't know. I guess I don't see why you'd be interested in someone like me."

"Sexy, funny and smart? Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking!" I laugh, and he props his head up on one hand and regards me when I lie back down.

"You think I'm sexy?" I ask, feeling myself blush, as he drops his head to press kisses into the line of my jaw.

"Mmhmm," he chuckles, his breath warming my skin.

"I think you're sexy too," I murmur, feeling like I want to kick myself because, _duh_. "But you knew that already."

"It means more coming from my girlfriend."

"Kiss me," I whisper and give a soft moan at the taste of his lips. Deepening the kiss, he moves on top of me and I wrap my legs around his waist, loving the solid weight of him on my body.

"Whoa, hey, sorry," Tara says as she bursts into my room. Groaning, Eric rolls off and hides his face in his hands, rubbing his temples. I bite my lip, hiding my amusement at his frustration. Patting his knee, I move to block Tara's view of the bulge in my boyfriend's pants.

"What's up, Tara?" I ask, suppressing a smile and finding my friend doing the same.

"Uhm, can I borrow your uhm, stapler?"

I nod and gesture at it on my desk, watching her staple what appears to be an essay before hurrying out, mumbling an amused apology. I jump up to lock the door behind her, just in case, and return to the bed to rest my chin on a hand I lay flat on Eric's abdomen. He regards me, a little disgruntled, with his arm curled under his head and I grin, a thought striking me. Pushing up his shirt to kiss his belly button, I follow the thin line of hair down to where it disappears under his waistband and slide down to the floor to kneel between his legs. I shoot him a coy look and unbutton his jeans to release his still-hard length from his boxer-briefs. He sits up, leaning back on his arms to watch me as I take him into my mouth. I love the little sounds he makes, little hisses and moans in between my mumbled-out name and words of praise that grow more and more incoherent as he nears his release. One hand tangles in my hair and his hips lift up a little bit, a string of words tumbling out as I relax my throat, taking him deeper just as he releases. I swallow everything and tuck him back into his jeans.

"Better?" I ask with a smirk.

"Oh god yes," he pants, the picture of post-orgasmic bliss as he stares up at the ceiling. "Come here," he crooks a finger and I climb on top of him to rest my head against his neck. "Give me a minute."

I laugh softly and tease his earlobe with my fingers. As his breaths even out, he rolls us over and stretches out above me, locking my hands above my head in a firm grip as his lips find the spot behind my ear that makes me shudder. Soon, his fingers are buried in my core and I'm gasping into his neck, begging for my release.

"Baby," I squirm, my fingers tightening in his hair as his mouth does the same to my nipple. Hips bucking up when his thumb rubs at my clit, I choke out a cry and spasm around his fingers. Making sure my eyes are on him, Eric licks his fingers clean and I'm just about ready to jump him right there but he buttons up my jeans, fixes my bra and shirt, and pulls my body into his to hold.

My fingers draw patterns on his chest and I breathe him in, feeling a little obsessed.

"I could do this everyday," he murmurs.

"What, have orgasms? Me too. You know what, let's." I tease, still feeling like I'm floating, a little bit.

"Done."

"And also, you should wear this shirt more often," I murmur, feeling a little drowsy as I tap the navy-blue Henley shirt that clings to his muscles and makes his eyes glow.

"I'll wear it every day if it makes you do that thing again."

I smile, feeling oddly proud at having deep-throated him.

"Good deal. But do wash it regularly."

Laughing, he presses a kiss into my forehead.

"Time for a nap?"

"Time for a nap."

888

I run into the girl a few days later, and smile brightly at her in the way that is practically expected when someone you have and desire is desired by someone else. _Back off, bitch_, I chortle mentally and have to suppress a cackle when Eric chooses that moment to call me.

"Hey baby," I croon, standing in front of Tania in the line up to pay for my cafeteria food.

"Uh, hello." He sounds confused, unsure of why the hell I'm acting like this. I lay it on thick until The Bitch Who Slept With My Boyfriend is out of earshot and then I quickly explain my behaviour to him. His disapproval might as well pour through the phone but I brush it off, telling him to better let me have my fun.

"Yes dear," he sighs before changing the subject to our dinner plans for the following Friday.

"You really think he's being faithful to you?" Tania leans against the table I've spread my lunch and homework out on, after I've hung up.

"Excuse me?" I didn't expect an actual confrontation but she actually looks like she has an edge over me. I'm almost afraid of what she could have to tell me.

"Eric. You really think he's brownies on the moon, don't you?"

"I'm waiting for you to make your point."

"Your _boyfriend_, did he tell you we had sex?"

"Yes." What did she expect?

"Did he tell you when I ended it?"

"I didn't realize him leaving your room in the morning equated you 'ending it'." I cock a brow. Eric told me that they'd met at a res party and that he'd gone back to her room to leave the next morning before she woke up. It was a bit douchey of him, even he'd admitted it, but I'd made a point to move past it. His past didn't have to dictate his future and all that.

"Oh is that what he told you." She throws her head back, laughing, and I have to suppress the urge to beat her down with my textbook. "And you believed him. Cute." Turning on her heel, she walks away and I have to take a moment to take several deep breaths. Giving up on the whole homework thing, I pack up, tossing out the lunch I just bought and stomp upstairs to bang on Eric's door. He swings open the door, baffled – an expression that only becomes more severe when I punch him in the bicep.

"Ow! What, what was that for?"

"That's for sleeping with a crazy bitch. Of all the pretty girls in this building willing to have sex with you, you had to go pick the most spiteful possessive one who confronts me and tries to make me doubt you."

"She did what?"

"You heard me."

"She confronted you? Saying _what_?"

"Asking if I knew when _she_ ended things, like it was more than a one-night stand." He takes a step forward and I jab him in the chest. "And don't think this is because I don't trust you. Because I do, I trust you. You just _had_ to go and pick the crazy bitch, and… damn you, Northman!" I punch him again.

"Ow, can you not do that please?"

"What, does it hurt?" I punch him again. "Maybe next time, sleep with someone sane, huh?" I swing again but he ducks and I glare at him.

"I'm sorry, okay? Next time," he suppresses an amused chuckle, "I'll pick a sane girl to have a one-night stand with."

"That's _not funny_," I smack him and he grabs my wrists, laughing as he wraps my arms around his waist and places the mother of all kisses on me. Breaking away, I pout and he sobers right up.

"I'm sorry she confronted you. I'm actually really fucking mad about it; do you want me to go talk to her?"

"No! And it's not your fault. I'm more annoyed than anything. And insanely jealous, but mostly just annoyed." Looking around, I realize that we're still standing in the hallway and push him into his room, shutting the door behind us. He slumps down on his bed and I join him, perching in his lap.

"Why would you be jealous? She doesn't mean half as much to me as you do."

I stand up suddenly to peer out the window.

"What?" Eric asks, mystified.

"The jealousy, it went right out the window." I beam down at him.

"You're ridiculous," he mumbles and pulls me back down.

"Ha. Yeah. But now you need to make it up to me." He looks unsure for a moment. "Make it up to me!"

"Sookie, are you sure you're okay? We're okay?"

Deflating, I rest my head on his shoulder. "We're okay. I hate that you slept with her but only because I hate the thought of you doing… _that_ with somebody other than me. I mean, call me old-fashioned, but I just don't think I could ever have sex with someone I don't even know. I mean, how can you- I mean, sex is supposed to feel good, and it's supposed to mean something, so how can you just pick a stranger and, and, and make them feel good? How can you have sex with her, and want to have sex with me, because I would hope it would mean something with me, but then you will have done that exact same thing with someone you've never even shared a cup of coffee with."

"Well, it won't be the exact same thing Sook." I throw my hands up in the air, like _Oh, really,_ and he continues. "With you it won't just be about feeling good. Well, I mean, it will be that too, but it won't be_ just _about getting off. It'll be about us being… us. You know." He bites adorably on his lip and I can't help softening towards him when he says things like that.

"You make me really happy, you know that, right?"

"I do." He grins and touches my cheek. "You too. Really happy."

"Fucking Tania."

"I did."

"I hate you."

"I know." His arms tighten around my waist. "But seriously, Sook. You mean so much to me, and I can't imagine this being any other way. I can't imagine us not being together."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, loving the solid feel of him, and respond into his neck. "You too. I don't know what I ever did before you."


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: I've had this chapter written for oh so very long, and I'm stoked that I finally get to post it! Let me know what you think, it's definitely a big one in their relationship, even though it's pretty much 12 pages of fluff and smut (flut? smuff?). Anyways, reviews are love.

* * *

_Chapter 5_

**December 2010**

**Sookie**

I wake up on Friday morning and can feel my heart rate climbing as I realize what day it is – or rather, what day I've decided it will be. I attend the two lectures I have on Fridays and then return to my room, tidying up and throwing a couple loads of laundry into the machine. I even go so far as to vacuum and change the sheets before hitting the shower. It's early evening by the time I'm done and I have to decline the seemingly endless number of people who insist on Eric and I going out with them. I wince at the mention of Eric-and-I like we're one, not sure how I feel that the floor is considering us a joint entity, but politely decline, claiming that I have homework. I have to fight the urge to punch Arlene out when she asks if Eric alone will be going out, and I suggest she ask him herself. Leaning against the wall where I had been having a conversation with Tara, we watch as Arlene bounds down the hall and raps on Eric's door. He steps out into the doorway in an attempt at not letting her in and politely declines her offer, briefly turning his head to notice me standing a few doors down. Waiting until Arlene has walked through the door that separates the hallway from the lounge, Eric walks towards Tara and I with a raised brow.

"So were you testing me or just curious to see what I would do?" he asks, leaning against the wall next to me.

"I was just letting her hear it from you because she wouldn't have believed me telling her you don't want to go out with her," I chuckle at him. He makes a sound in disbelief. "You think you're hot stuff, don't you," I tease, laughing when Tara makes a show of gagging and walks away, closing her door behind her.

"I _am_ hot stuff," he smirks.

"Arlene certainly seems to think so."

"But do you think so?" he steps close enough that I have to look straight up to hold his burning gaze.

"You're decent. Mediocre at best," I shrug and he growls, kissing me thoroughly until I'm breathless and have to steady myself with two hands on his chest. "But you're _my_ mediocre at best," I whisper, stealing another kiss to walk away, leaving him behind.

"I'll see you later?" he calls after me, meaning later tonight.

Oh yes. If all goes according to plans, he'll be seeing quite a bit of me tonight.

"I'll text you."

888

- _You should come over. _My fingers shake as I type in the words a few hours later and press Send. There's no reason why I should be nervous; I want this, Eric wants this. More importantly, he wants me, and he has been more than patient with me in the past little while, always backing off when I suggest we do and never once complaining when I leave him with blue balls.

And I'm ready.

I spent hours today getting physically ready, plucking and exfoliating and shaving until even _I'm_ attracted to myself.

That's a lie. I'm just kidding, trying to calm down my rapidly-beating heart. Taking a deep breath, I try to steady my nerves and even manage to succeed until there's a knock at the door. As is his tendency, Eric pops his head into the room, peering until he catches my eyes and grins.

"Hey there." His hair is combed back, wet and dark from the shower, and he's dressed in black sweats and a white v-neck t-shirt that makes my mouth water. Christ, I want him.

"Hi." I can't help beaming and move so that I'm kneeling where I was previously sitting on my bed.

"You look beautiful tonight." He puts his arms around me and kisses my cheek.

"Thank you." I blush and look away.

"Why did you tell me to come over?" he asks, nuzzling my jaw.

"I had something to tell you," I admit, feeling goosebumps rise all over in response to what he's doing to me.

"Do tell," he smiles and leans down to kiss my collarbone, but I direct his face to mine. His lips are soft and he closes his eyes, letting me kiss him without responding like he does sometimes in the moment before he claims my mouth.

"Eric?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to say it."

"Say what?" His brows draw together and I pull back to cup his face in my hands until his eyes open and focus on mine.

"Eric, I'm stone-cold sober, and I would like to fornicate with you," I say, fighting the smile when realization floods his expression. I'm frankly impressed with myself for even remembering what he said to me, over a month ago and far too drunk, but I thought it was the perfect way to let him know.

"Are you sure?"

I nod, suddenly feeling shy, and lean forward to mouth at his neck, breathing in the scent of his soap. He has a bit of stubble on his face and I brush it with my hand, letting the other drop to push up his shirt and lay flat against the small of his back.

"Condom?" I ask into his collarbone.

"Yeah, in my room. Be right back."

I sit back, moving to the middle of the bed and discarding my shirt. Eric returns a moment later, shutting the door and locking it behind him. He holds up the two foil packets and places them on the ledge above my bed, pulling off his t-shirt before crawling over to settle himself between my legs. I've managed to work myself into another state of panic in his short absence and he seems to sense this because he abandons my lips in favour of my fingers, kissing every knuckle and working his way up to my shoulder before starting on the other arm.

"If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say so, okay baby?"

He never calls me 'baby', never calls anyone anything other than their given name even though I sometimes slip and call him 'honey' or 'baby'. 'Shmoopsie poo' if I'm teasing him, but I love that he called me 'baby'.

I wonder if he suspects something about my lack of sexual experience and if that's why he's being so careful, but I nod 'okay' anyways, appreciating his care. He moves down to kiss the space between my waistband and my bellybutton, running his nose up into the little cranny, his tongue darting out to moisten the skin. I sigh in contentment and prop myself up on my elbows to watch him as he works his way up, nuzzling the valley of my breasts before discarding the black lace of my bra.

"As sexy as you looked in that…" he murmurs and takes a nipple into his mouth. I gasp, my fingers threading into his damp hair as I rest back on the comforter. He's great at this, and I've been reaping the rewards ever since we started dating. Now, I arch into his mouth and a while later, satisfied that both breasts have received equal attention, he unbuttons my jeans and pulls them off of my hips.

"How do you even get these on?" he teases, laughing at how tight they are.

"You weren't complaining when you were checking out my ass the other day," I breathe out; I'm practically naked now, and it's making my anxiety grow.

"Good point." Reverently, he folds the denim and places it in my closet before kissing his way up my body, starting at my ankle. I guess he appreciates the lemon vanilla lotion I smoothed over my body earlier because he smiles into my skin, pressing his lips into the smooth flesh, inch by inch. His attentions manage to soothe away the overwhelming wave of self-consciousness threatening to drown me and when I try to squirm away once he's reached my inner thighs, he stills my hips and presses a firm kiss onto the waistband of my lacy boyshorts.

"You're gorgeous," he murmurs.

"Eric," I blush, uncomfortable with his intense gaze.

"Look at me."

Biting my lip, I do as he says, feeling my cheeks burn in humiliation.

"I think you're beautiful." Jesus, he's perfectly serious, his blue eyes wide and sincere.

"Thank you," I mutter and, waiting until I meet his gaze, Eric slides off the last item of clothing on my body. "Eric," I squeak out when, instead of aligning his body with mine or getting rid of his own pants, he ducks down until he's face-to-face with my center, his warm breath blowing over me. I almost wish he'd just get it over with, but having seen his body, that might not be the best idea. I tense at what he might think of me or whether or not I taste or smell good. The thought is absurd because I showered just a couple of hours ago and it's not like he doesn't know what to expect, but the irrational part of me is running rampant inside, screaming in terror until Eric's tongue darts out to give me a long lick and I shudder with pleasure. He uses his thumbs to allow him better access to my clit and, latching on to it, he sucks and flicks at it until I'm squirming and moaning his name. Satisfied with my reaction, he allows a finger to probe at my opening, timidly at first and then sliding in to pump in and out. The second finger stretches me a bit and I gasp at the slight discomfort that he wears away with his gentle movements before adding a third. There is definite discomfort now and I whimper.

"Are you okay?" he asks, breathless and his eyes flashing as his movements slow. Not finding the words, I settle for a nod and he continues steadily stretching me until the pleasure seeps back into his actions. I know why he's taking such care in preparing me; to be honest, a whole lot of my anxiety was due to his sheer size and my fear over not being able to handle him and give as good as I get. My sexual experiences with him so far have all pointed to how skilled he is in bed, and that thought in itself had managed to intimidate the hell out of me.

When I feel the coil tightening in the pit of my stomach, I whimper out that I'm close, begging for him to not stop. Tongue still flicking while his fingers rapidly slide in and out, Eric manages to coax an orgasm out of me and then moves up, murmuring endearments and compliments to me as he does. I can feel his hardness against my thigh even though he's still half-dressed and I tug down his sweatpants, my body still shaking with the aftershocks. He's more than ready and reaches for one of the two condoms on the ledge, quickly ripping it open and sliding it on.

And then, suddenly, it's like time slows down.

We pull away the comforter and I lay back against the pillows, eyes trained on his as he lowers his long body against mine. My thighs fall open to bring him closer to me and his hands dig into the pillow on either side of my head as he bends down to kiss my neck.

"You're shaking," he observes quietly.

"Yeah," I say for lack of something better, hoping he catches my apologetic smile in the dim light of my bedside lamp. I'd been worried that he would turn the lights on earlier, and had been relieved when he didn't. Now, he strokes my hair and I lean into his touch, finding it incredibly soothing.

"Am I… your first?" Eric asks me, unsure, and I shake my head before finding the words.

"Second."

He nods. "Second person?"

"No, second time."

"Oh, Sook." His lips press against mine and we kiss until I'm squirming against him once again, feeling just how hard he is between my legs.

"You still want to do this?" A definitive nod. God I want this, want him, more than anything in my entire life. "Tell me if I'm hurting you, okay?" I nod again and urge him on, so he reaches down and guides himself to my opening. Exhaling slowly, he pushes in a few inches and stops, waiting for me to get accustomed to his size. I moan, releasing the breath that got caught in my throat and move my hips to take more of him. My Eric lets out a choked sound and pushes in further, bit by bit until he's fully sheathed inside my body and it's stretching to accommodate to his size.

"Jesus, you're tight," he groans.

"Oh god," I gasp, hiding my face in his neck. Quinn, despite being a big guy, wasn't this big. Not this careful either, which is a good thing because I can't imagine the damage Eric would be capable of if he wasn't so careful with me. Experimentally, Eric pulls out the tiniest bit and pushes back in, eliciting a low moan.

"Good moan or bad moan?" he asks breathlessly, a faint smile on his lips. Good moan. Definitely a good moan. The hours – or what felt like it anyways – of foreplay has helped and there is no pain, just the shock of having something bigger than a finger or two inside of me. And even that is wearing away, so when Eric pulls out – this time farther – and slides back in, I arch my spine to get more friction. Soon, he's developed a steady rhythm and we're off, so to speak.

There is something nobody ever tells you about having sex, that I had found incredibly intimate my first time, and that's the ability to hear your partner's breathing so acutely that there can be no mistaking the activity you're partaking in. Neither Eric and I are particularly loud, and our conversation is limited to _more'_s and _yes'_s and _oh god fuck yes right there_'s, so the only sounds other than that of our flesh slapping together is our breathing as he thrusts into me and I roll my hips into his. The other thing nobody ever tells you is where to put your hands, so I let my hands drift over his body, from the strong arms framing me up to his broad shoulder and down over his muscular back, to settle on his hips. I trace the v-line that dips down to his groin and timidly grab his ass, eliciting a breathless laugh from Eric who asks me if I've found something I like and then bends down to kiss me.

Yes, as a matter of fact, I have.

Hands knotting in his hair when he buries his face in my neck, I feel my orgasm approaching and let out a whimper.

"Are you close?" I whisper and he makes a small noise before finding the words.

"Fuck, yeah, are you?"

"Yeah."

One hand drops down to rub at me and I cry out, nails digging into his back as my inner muscles clamp down on him and I orgasm hard enough to sprain my neck as I arch my back. Eric's not far behind because he calls out a profanity and slumps into me, his weight on his elbows when he rests his head on my shoulder.

Gently pulling out after a moment of recovery, Eric disposes of the condom and wets a washcloth with the water in my filtered-water pitcher and cleans us both up. I smile at him in a mix of gratitude and post-orgasmic drowsiness, and snuggle into him when he joins me under the comforter.

"So, your second time, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Quinn?"

"Yup."

"Thank you," my boyfriend whispers, cupping my face in his hands.

"Pfsht, you're silly," I giggle as he presses his lips to mine.

"Why am I silly?" he laughs, tucking the covers around me.

"Because I should be the one thanking you, for keeping me from having a mental breakdown."

"It was no problem. I'll keep you from having a breakdown _anytime_." I can practically hear him leering suggestively at the last part and I grin, turning away from him and feeling him obediently curl his body around mine as we fall asleep.

888

Eric's head is thrown back, off the pillow, and his mouth is open. His hair is all over the place and there's sleep lines on his cheek that suggest his face was resting on the arm he has extending towards me. I grin when I see his feet hanging off the edge of the bed. He doesn't fit into any beds.

I feel like such a girl, in this moment, quietly watching the light of the early morning on my boyfriend's skin, watching his pale lashes resting against his cheeks, his body twisted almost comically in a way I can't imagine being comfortable.

I feel like a girl falling in love. Fuck, who am I kidding, I'm in love with him. I was in love with him when he rested his head in my lap, seeking comfort when Felicia left. I was already falling for him when he felt the need to defend me against Quinn, had started falling from the first time he shot me his boyish grin. I had fought it, wanting to establish my own independence, needing to not be just another girl falling at his feet. And I hadn't been. I wasn't just another girl to him, and I'm sure I never will be either.

Last night had been nerve-wracking. I hadn't been ready for a long time, and he hadn't pushed me, which I appreciated. We'd had the STI talk, after the Tania talk, when things had progressed from handjobs to oral sex – on his end, because I had politely refused him reciprocating, out of sheer embarrassment – and I'd pushed him to get tested even though they'd used a condom. I had gotten tested too, just to be sure; I didn't want any surprises. Receiving our identical clean bills of health, he had sat me down and solemnly told me about everything, after Pam. He'd spiraled out of control, he said; sleeping around, drinking too much, doing drugs. I hadn't asked too many questions, not because I didn't care but because I didn't need to know; I'd made a point to draw lines, pre-me and post-me lines. If he was coming clean to me about it, then he had nothing to hide, and it wasn't fair to him for me to hold something against him that he had clearly moved past. And he had, he'd insisted. He barely drank anymore, obviously no longer slept around, and the drugs thing – more specifically, the weed thing and a couple instances of mushrooms – he had stopped from any longer being an issue.

That talk, however, never led him to ask me about my sexual history and I had never shared, unsure and maybe a bit insecure about the circumstances of my first – and, before last night, last – time, which had been questionable considering I'd slept with Quinn and dumped him within the course of two hours. Instead, Eric had told me, with a grounding intensity, that he would never be unfaithful to a girlfriend.

But just to top off the insecure sundae that was my sexual prowess was the fact that I knew what Pam had looked like, and what Tania looks like. Both were blonde, though Tania is less like Pam and I in that she's 5'10" where Pam and I barely reached 5'6". Pam was a bit taller, and tiny where I'm curvy. And where I'm confident in the size of my breasts, my ass has always been a bit of a sore point for me and the knowledge that two of Eric's previous conquests had been considerably slimmer than me did little to quell my discomfort. I hate comparing myself to them but these are the thoughts that swirled around in my head for days before I finally decided I was ready for him, ready to hold back my fears and insecurities.

Leap and the net will appear, and all that.

Now, I think about how loving Eric was last night, how carefully he had handled me, kissing and touching until I felt like he was taking stock and loving every single part of me. Smiling, I lean forward to kiss his chest, dragging my fingers over the light hair there and letting them drift down to the sharp cut of his hips under the covers. My lips move to his nipples, mouthing at the tender skin until they pebble before I kiss my way down his body, relocating myself between his spread legs. With a bit more of attention, I've awakened a specific part of his anatomy and I wrap my hand around his length, pumping experimentally a few times. In his sleep, Eric's breath catches and he swallows, his features rearranging into a more urgent expression as I continue to stroke him. He mumbles my name, turning his head to bury it into the pillow when I lap at the moisture gathering at his tip.

"Eric," I call, giving him another lick and his hips jerk. "Eric." I rub my hands up and down his thighs in an attempt at rousing him – well, in the _other_ way – before I wrap one hand around his base and take him into my mouth.

This is one thing I _know_ I'm good at; Quinn had always been a bit of a drill sergeant and I'm kind of grateful for it now, even though at the time I had been offended. Hearing Eric cry out my name the first time I took him into my mouth, however, made me send a silent prayer to my ex-boyfriend for having honed my skills. Not that he's who I'm thinking about now as I take Eric deeper, sucking more powerfully as I move my head up and down on his length and cover the rest of him with my hand. He's definitely up now, having gasped awake, as my hand keeps the rhythm my mouth establishes and soon Eric is chanting my name in the same rhythm.

"I'm close. _FuckSookieI'mclose_," he hisses and with a powerful draw, he's climaxing, spilling into my mouth. I swallow everything he has to offer and let him fall from my mouth to wink up at him, letting him pull me up for a kiss. I smile, liking that he has no qualms against kissing me after I blow him when Quinn had been a bit of a nazi in that regard too, refusing to kiss me until I rinsed with mouthwash.

"What was that for?" he pants, still a bit shaken.

"Just because. Just because I like you so much."

"You mean so much to me. So much." His words are so heartfelt, I can feel the squeeze in my happy heart as we lay there, me wrapped in his arms. Occasionally, he nuzzles my hair or presses a kiss into the top of my head and my hand strokes up and down his stomach, but we remain silent. It feels like hours later when I speak again.

"So, last night. Was that… was it good for you?" I squeeze my eyes shut at having actually sunk so low as to utter the stereotypical phrase, but the truth is that I need to know. Eric blinks drowsily at me, smiling as he slants his lips over mine for a kiss.

"What do you think?"

"I don't know," I admit and he laughs. "I mean, I know you-… 'cause you did-"

"Who's being silly now, silly girl?" Leaning forward, he kisses me again and I don't even care about morning breath when his lips are making me feel so warm inside.

"Eric," I insist.

"Yes, dear heart," he teases me with the nickname he only utilizes coupled with a fake British accent. When I punch him in the ribs, he laughs but then regards me soberly. "It was amazing for me," he murmurs, kissing my cheek because I've rolled onto my back, pouting now, and he's hugging me while lying on his side. As if reacting to his lips and not his words, I feel the colour flooding my cheeks.

"Really?" I turn my head to meet his gaze.

"Really really. I'm pretty sure you've created a monster." And I'm pretty sure that is what I've been feeling against my hip for the past ten or fifteen minutes. "Was it good for you?"

"Like you even have to ask," I mumble, turning to let him kiss me again.

888

The second time we have sex is a bit of a disaster. We rush into it, both of us nervous for some God-only-knows reason and try to fumble our way through until Eric's hand stops mine, leveling me with his gaze so that I know he has realized the same thing. We regard each other for a moment, a little breathless and more than a little frazzled, and burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. We laugh until our abs hurt and we snuggle closer to the other, occasionally shaking with the errant giggles until suddenly it's an hour later and we're waking up from our impromptu nap. Naked and in my bed, Eric turns his body to kiss me slowly and this time we let the intensity build until we can manage another attempt, which turns out fantastically well.

Afterwards, I lay shuddering beside Eric and we talk quietly amongst ourselves, our hands innocently exploring the other as the setting sun paints my walls orange and then a dim blue.

It's then, lying in his arms, that I notice the light in his eyes when he looks at me and realize that is what I must look like, when he's around. Alive.

I want to tell him, that he has become everything and that he means the world to me, but the same insecurity that kept me on the a verge of a breakdown a few nights ago is keeping me from opening my mouth. Instead, I let my fingers run through his hair and I kiss his face, flitting from feature to feature until his lips are all that is left. When he pulls me into his chest, I mouth the words into his skin and then smile, impressed with myself for being so sneaky, and surrender to the drowsiness.

888

Almost a week later, I head to the bathroom for my bedtime routine and, walking back to my room, I see Eric emerge from the boy's bathroom at the opposite end of the hallway. Classes ended on Tuesday and I've spent the past three days in the library, studying for my first final on Monday. As a result, I've barely even seen Eric and, other than a brief lunch on Wednesday, I haven't spent any considerable amount of time with him. Now, I toss my toothbrush into the basket hanging behind my door and return to wait for him in the hall. Eric grins, ordering, "Jump" and I get a bit of a headstart before hopping into his arms, my legs hitching around his hips. His arms wrapped around me, my boyfriend carries me into my room, shutting the door behind us and even managing to lock it while holding me with one hand. After gently depositing me on the bed he takes a moment to discard his t-shirt, and then allows me to lie with my head on his chest, one arm and leg thrown across his body.

"I've missed you." I rub my cheek against his chest.

"Missed you too." His hand rubs my back. "How goes studying?"

"Good, I think. I've gotten a lot done. How're you doing?"

"Fine. I don't exactly enjoy not seeing you but there's time for that later." He squeezes me to his side and I giggle, agreeing with him.

"Mine," I whisper a few moments later in the silence, eliciting a laugh that makes me smile back.

"Yours," he concedes and we fall silent for so long that I think he has fallen asleep.

"Sookie?" he calls out into the darkness, smelling like toothpaste and soap and boy.

"Yeah?" My own eyes are drifting shut and I admit I'm barely listening to him until he utters the next words.

"I love you."

My hand shoots out to turn on the little lamp on the ledge above my bed before I raise myself up to meet his eyes.

"Really?"

He smiles, unsure, and then nods as his grin widens and his confidence grows. My heart is hammering and my hand flexes against his chest before flattening to feel his heartbeat. I regard him carefully for a long moment, cocking my head to the side and placing a palm he leans into against his cheek. I remember what he told me on Halloween, even if he doesn't know I do. _There is nothing not to love_, he had said. _I could love you soon._ I'd thought back on those words so many times since then, and more than once I'd had to dismiss whoever would ask me about my smile when I did. I think it's far too early. We've been together for less than two months and he loves me? I should call him crazy, dismiss him. I should be panicking, because who falls in love after two months? But then again, who the hell am I to judge how early he is allowed to fall in love with me? I was with Quinn for far longer, and barely regarded him as more than a friend.

Now, I lean forward and kiss him, both lips, then his nose, then the faint cleft in his chin.

"I love you back."

**Eric**

"I love you back," she says and it's like every single muscle in my body that had tensed to the point of snapping relaxes. I never said it to Pam, never felt safe enough with her to put myself on the line like that, and with how things ended I don't find myself regretting it. I owed it to her, though. To Sookie, I mean. I recognize how much it took for her to trust me, to sleep with me, because she doesn't trust easily. Neither do I, but loving her has nothing to do with trusting her. In my head, they're totally different things.

But I trust her too. When she tells me she loves me like she has loved me for ages I know my trust is well-placed. She loves me, she would never hurt me, I see that, and I love her back.

I love her to bits, I think as she returns my crazy grin and then tucks her body against mine.

I have a final the next day at two, and so does she, but neither one of us are big on studying on the day of so there's no panic when we wake up at ten-thirty.

"Good morning," I mumble into her hair since her body is spooned into mine and she mumbles it back. When I kiss her shoulder, she squirms and her ass does interesting things to my rapidly-awakening cock. "Sookie," I groan and move her hair away to kiss her neck. As anticipated, she pushes me away and I deflate, even though not every part of me gets that memo.

"No," she pouts, moving away from me.

"Sookie, come on."

"I'm not wearing any makeup and I don't look good and-"

"And I love you. You, without the makeup. I don't care if your eyes are more defined, I think you're gorgeous." I move atop her, "And, sexy." I kiss her neck and she squirms, aroused and uncomfortable all at the same time. If she's actually uncomfortable, I won't push it, but first I need to make this point by kissing every bit of her face. "You're so fucking beautiful."

"Now if I have sex with you after a few compliments, what will that say about me?" She teases but appears more comfortable, so I nuzzle the line of her jaw and try to determine if she's giving me the green light. She is, I guess, because her hands stroke up my back and her knees part to bring me closer to her. "I still don't believe you."

"Oh?" I stop sucking on her neck, disappointed.

"But you can convince me with something that involves very little talking."

"Oh." I smirk and return to my favourite part of her, other than the obvious. She moans, moving restlessly, and I grind against her heat to elicit more of those wonderful sounds. Suddenly, I have no more patience for her clothes and I pull her into a sitting position to slip off her shirt and shorts. Smiling at me, she lies back down and I remain kneeling over her body, taking her in. She had told me to tell her, when I finally decided I love her. I smile, remembering that, and thanking God that I had taken Drunk Sookie's advice.

"What?" The Sober Sookie in front of me fidgets and I shake away the thoughts.

"I love you."

She giggles and hides her face in her hands. Moving, I kiss her on her hipbone, over her ribs, on her sternum, and her clavicle, all the while murmuring over and over that I love her. She stops me when I reach her face and her small hands cup my cheeks to brush over my cheekbones. Looking into my eyes, she smiles at me and bites her lips, and I fight the urge to lean forward to lick them.

"I love you back."

I can't help the grin and brush her lips briefly before capturing them, and I groan when she deepens the kiss. Pulling away for a condom retrieved from the box she keeps on her shelf, I return to her arms and her legs hitch above my hips. Rolling on the condom, I hastily place myself at her entrance and bury myself inside her. We both freeze for a second as she adjusts around me and I pull myself together. She feels so good, so perfect, that I have to distract myself by popping her hard nipple into my mouth. I suck and nibble on her soft flesh and she moans, arching her chest into me and I move to the other breast.

"Oh God, Eric please." Her hips move and her inner muscles stroke me, effectively grabbing my attention. I pull out and drive back in just as slowly, savouring every bit of her. She whimpers a little bit and her hands flutter all over my body; tangling in my hair, scratching over my shoulders, grabbing my ass and tugging me _in_. She smells like jasmine, like all the good memories we've made together, and I whisper her name as my hips speed up. Her moans grow more and more loud as my thrusts grow faster and, with a rub at her little bundle of nerves she's climaxing, tightening around me and coaxing my own orgasm out. My body shakes on top of hers, my mouth dropping to her neck to muffle my cries and I thrust a few more times, deep, grinding thrusts to ride out her orgasm until she's coming down from her high and so am I. Reluctantly I pull out and, discarding the condom, stretch out my body along her side, bringing her closer to me. With her eyes closed in bliss, she puckers up and that is my cue for a kiss.

"You're perfect," she mumbles and captures my bottom lip, not realizing that it's the other way around.

"Anything for you." Really. Anything; astronaut, Pillsbury doughboy, whatever, you name it, I'll be anything. I'll do anything for her.

"Smooth talker," she giggles. "But now I'm too blissed out to give a crap about my final."

"But no more test anxiety. How awesome is that?" I roll onto my back, my body spread out. "You can thank me once you get your marks."

She bursts out laughing. "Jackass."

"Yeah well, you're stuck with me now, aren't you?" I look over to grin at her, and she blushes. Fuck, I love it when she does that. "You know what we haven't tried yet?" I waggle my eyebrows to make sure she knows what I'm talking about.

"What?" She raises a brow back.

"You on top." She's really been very modest, more modest than I would have thought considering how much of a minx she can be. It's a bit of a paradox that she can give me a blowjob that'll make my toes tingle, then pull a one-eighty and ask me to turn off the lights when we fuck.

She shuts down immediately. "Oh, I don't know, Eric. Isn't one step forward enough for this day?"

"Sook," I pout and wrap an arm around her, nuzzling her neck. Shuddering, she makes a little noise and shoots me a look.

"I'm not comfortable with it, Eric."

"What if we do it in the dark?" That earns me a pair of narrowed blue eyes, but I'm dead serious. I'm confident she'll be comfortable with it at some point, but it won't happen without a little nudging.

"Eric, no."

She says yes a week later, the night before we head home for Christmas. I light one candle, _one_, and kiss away the glare she shoots me.

One day, she'll be comfortable with that too.

We crawl under the covers and I hitch her leg over my hip before capturing her lips. I tease her nipples and she squirms, grinding herself against my rapidly growing erection, and I roll onto my back to pull her on top.

"I don't know what to do," she murmurs, a little embarrassed. I had figured as much; Sookie might as well have been a virgin when we got together. She had called her first time "de-virginalizing" sex and not "actual" sex, which was pretty much accurate. What little she's comfortable with, she's fantastic at, but I can't wait for her to discover how good being on top can be. After all, she is never one to give up control in her life, so I'm positive she'll love taking it in the bedroom.

"It's okay." I offer her a reassuring smile and sit up to kiss her. With a little guidance, she's pushing me to lie back and placing me at her opening. She feels great, and I groan at the sensation when she tightens her muscles around me. Rising and falling experimentally, she bites her lip and shoots me an unsure look, searching for the confirmation I immediately give her.

"Is that okay?"

"It's perfect." It is. Jesus. I can barely put coherent sentences together.

"Will you tell me if it's not?" She looks so vulnerable, I almost flip us back over.

"You think I'd let us have bad sex?" I grin up at her. "You feel good; you're fucking amazing. Trust yourself." I sound like a bad, NC-17 Hallmark card. Sookie nods and rolls her hips, moaning a little at the sensation. "There you go." She keeps that up, trying different things with my gentle direction and a while later, after drawing it out as long as we possibly can, we both finish. I murmur perfectly sincere compliments, pulling her into my arms, and smile at her blush when she thanks me quietly.

"Thoughts?"

"I liked it," she admits with a bite of her lip.

"I thought you would." I imagine there's a twinkle in my eye. I sure as hell liked it.

"We should do it again."

I grin over at her, and she grins back.


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: Yikes, guys, I'm so sorry, this week I've had to hand in an essay, a lab report, and write a midterm. It was a bit hectic, and now I've got a bit of time before midterms hit and the chaos resumes. Thanks to everybody who reviewed last chapter, or who has reviewed in the past. Let me know what you think; this was one of my favourite chapters to write, and I'd love to hear what you think.

Interestingly enough, the story timeline has matched up with real life, for a little while =]

* * *

_Chapter 6_

**February 2011**

**Sookie**

"Eric, it's going to be fine," I try reassuring my boyfriend for the eighteenth time. It's Reading Week, and we're heading to my home where Eric will be meeting my parents for the first time since we started dating.

"I know," he grumbles, not sounding very convinced as he zips up his duffle bag and plops unceremoniously on his bed. Trying to suppress a chuckle, I join him, bringing one knee up on the mattress to face him. "What if they hate me?"

"Why would they hate you?" I attempt to reason.

"Because I'm banging their daughter?"

"Oh, good, romantic." I roll my eyes.

"Not that that is how I think of it, it's how your parents will think _I_ think of it."

"But you don't."

"You're right, I don't. I love you, but they're your parents, they're going to be more worried about me hurting you than about how much I love you."

"Aw, sweetie." I reach out for his cheek and he leans into my touch. "Look, my parents, they know me. I'm the most cautious person ever, and I overthink everything. If I'm dating you, they _know_ I've thought it through five times over. And," I move into his lap and his arms wrap instinctively around my hips. "I've been gushing about you to them for _months_. They know how amazing you are, and how much I care about you, so they won't hate you." He smiles at me and rests his head on my shoulder, holding me as I hold him for a few moments. It's touching that he's so nervous about this; he once told me that he had already met Pam's parents before they started dating, so he had never had that to worry about that. With me, my parents are two hours away and he didn't have the option of getting the awkwardness out of the way on the first date when he picked me up. And now, he told me a few weeks ago, he's already in love with me and if my parents hate him, then it'll be a colossally bigger deal than if they had hated him before he fell in love with me. I love the shit out of him, especially when he says things like that, and even though I'll never admit it for fear of fueling his anxiety, I'm worried too. The rational part of me knows that he'll charm the pants off of my mother with his gorgeous smile and he'll win my father over once he sees the way Eric looks at me when he thinks I'm not looking, but I won't believe it until I see it.

"What if they tell you to break up with me?"

"Alright, 'Ric, I'm going to tell you a secret, okay? I have never, not once, done something that constitutes as rebellion. I never dated the bad boy, I never wanted my belly button pierced, and not once did I come home drunk. So if they tell me I have to dump my boyfriend of four months, who I happen to be in love with, then they're going to be witnessing my very first act of rebellion."

His face lights up a little bit and he smiles, bending down to kiss my shoulder. "You love me that much?"

"I love you a lot," I confess, suddenly feeling unsure about the depth of his feelings for me. I mean, I know he loves me, but I never questioned how deeply. I'm not even sure there are different levels of being in love, but if there are, I'm pretty deeply screwed and not in the fun way Eric does sometimes.

"Hey, if my aunt hates you, I promise not to dump you," he promises brightly and I laugh, pushing away the anxiety that thought causes me, even though I probably won't be meeting Eric's aunt Thalia until the summer, at the earliest.

"That's very comforting, Sweetie, thank you." He kisses me reassuringly and not long after, we're driving on Highway 5 towards my hometown of Bon Temps, about three hours north of Hope. He lets me pick the music since he's driving, but I pick his favourites in an attempt at calming his nerves.

"Hey, pull over," I tell him suddenly, about an hour away from our destination.

"What, why?"

"Just do it, please?" He shoots me A Look but does as I ask, pulling off the road into the little ditch where, thanks to the trees and the dusk, we can't be seen by the oncoming traffic.

"What's going on?" I hop out and into the back seat where, knowing Eric's eyes are on me, I take off my shirt and give him A Look of my own. It takes all of two seconds for Eric to absorb what I'm doing and then he's with me, on me and soon, in me. We finish simultaneously, with me in his lap and his head buried in my neck as he mutes his sounds. Still shivering with my orgasm, I stroke his hair and trace the lines of his shoulders down to his hands which I bring up to my mouth, to kiss every knuckle. He finger-combs my hair away from my face, fixing it into a not-freshly-fucked state and offering me a smile as he does. I pepper kisses all over his face; his forehead, his eyebrows, the side of his nose, the rise of his cheekbones, murmuring over and over again that I love him.

"Christ, no wonder you talked me into meeting your parents."

"Why, because I'm so fantastic in bed?" I grin and lift myself away from his lap, both of us groaning as we lose our connection. I tug on my panties and jeans, and lift my hair away from my neck so he can hook up my bra.

"Tray called me pussy-whipped," he pouts, tucking himself into his boxers and zipping up his jeans. I move back to his lap and tug his t-shirt down over his head, giggling at the way it flattens his hair.

"Tray is one to talk," I laugh, twisting a piece of his hair around my fingers and pushing it back out of his face. "You're not pussy-whipped, you're sweet and you like sex, there's a difference."

Eric slides his arms through his sleeves and pulls his shirt down to cover his abdomen. "I do like sex. Why would anyone _not_ like sex, especially with you?"

"Aw, see, _that_ was sweet." I finish dressing myself and look around to locate my flats, finding them in the front seat.

"And I thought it was my rugged good looks."

"Your good looks are not rugged, they're just panty-dropping, male model good looks."

"I _am_ very good at making your panties drop."

"You sure are. Now come on, my parents are going to be worried."

We left Vancouver after Eric's last class, and with our little detour, it's almost nine at night by the time I direct Eric to the obscure turnoff and into my parents' freshly graveled driveway. I direct him to the back of the regularly renovated farmhouse that has housed Stackhouses for over a hundred and fifty years where the back door is already open, leaving the screen door shut. The latter door swings open and my mother runs out to pull me into a hug the moment I get out of the car.

"Hello Sweetheart," my mother beams at me in the dim light of the porch light and I grin back. I've missed her since I last saw her over Christmas.

"Mom, this is Eric," I introduce, reaching back for him and he joins me, shooting my mother a polite smile.

"Well, hello there Eric. My daughter has told me so much about you."

"Hello, Mrs Stackhouse." My boyfriend steps forward, probably to shake my mom's hand, but is instead pulled into a hug. I stifle a giggle at the pleasantly surprised expression on his face, and at the slightly comical vision of my five-foot-two mother hugging my six-foot-four boyfriend.

"Good things, I hope," Eric chuckles, conveying a fraction of how nervous he is.

"Oh, of course. Now come on in, it's getting chilly out here. Your dad's in the basement getting some beers from the fridge," she adds over her shoulder. I take my bag from Eric, grasping his free hand as we follow my mom into the kitchen. The entire house has changed very little in the time we've lived in it, and the kitchen is basically the same save for newer appliances and the table my parents bought after I moved to Vancouver. Eric looks around curiously, taking in the cluttered room.

"I'll show you where you can put your stuff," my mom calls over her shoulder and Eric and I exchange a look. I warned him about this; there is no way my parents would let us sleep in the same room while he stays with us, though I had been hoping they would let him sleep in Jason's room just down the hall since my brother is staying with a friend of his from Carlton. The alternative is that Eric sleep on the pullout couch in the basement, and I desperately don't want that. By the look on his face, Eric doesn't either.

"Corbett, they're here!" There's the sound of rapid footsteps and my dad bounds up the stairs to pull me into a bear hug, swinging me around and eliciting a delighted squeal from me.

"Sweetheart!"

"Hi daddy," I beam when he lets me down. His eyes travel to the other tall blonde man in the room and I brace myself internally. "Daddy, this is Eric."

"It's great to meet you, sir." Eric offers his hand and my dad clasps it firmly in his.

"Hello, Eric. My daughter has told us a lot about you." This is the second time in as many minutes that someone has told him that and I blush, rolling my eyes when Eric shoots me an amused look.

"So I hear. It's great to finally met you." There is an awkward moment while my father gives my boyfriend the once-over, and my mom breaks it by suggesting my dad show us our rooms. Eric clutches my hand and we both sigh in relief when we are both lead upstairs without a second glance at the stairs leading down to the basement.

"You can stay in Jase's room," my dad announces at the first door we arrive at and I shoot Eric an encouraging smile. Jason's room is the bigger room, since he's "the older sibling", and it still has the Megan Fox poster my brother put up a couple of summers ago. My mother must have cleaned it up because it's never in this tidy of a shape, and my dad seems to sense my train of thought because he adds, "Michelle cleaned up and changed the sheets. There's towels in the hall closet and the bathroom is next door, and you and Sookie get to share it but don't you be getting any ideas, you hear?"

"Daddy!" I gasp, mortified at what my father is implying. Correctly so, but that doesn't mean I want my dad to acknowledge my physical relationship.

"Yes sir," Eric nods, ignoring me.

"Good. Sookie's room is down the hall, next door to ours, so get that idea out of your head too. I understand that you're adults, and that you can do whatever you want at res, but under our roof, you'll be following my rules, you got it?" This is all directed, along with an icy glare, at Eric who takes it all in stride.

"_Daddy_!"

"Corbett, stop trying to scare the poor boy and give them a minute to get settled in!" My mom's voice travels from downstairs and my dad sighs, rolling his eyes.

"Alright, alright," he mutters to nobody in particular. "It's good to have you home, baby." With a kiss to my hair and a nod at Eric, my dad leaves us.

"Come on, I'll show you my room." First, I stop and show him the bathroom, all decked out in peaches and soft corals. He's still peering curiously around every room that I show him and I smile, finding it cute. My room is past the guest room with its Queen-sized bed, which is probably the reason why Eric doesn't get to stay there. Jason's room, with its Double bed, is much more likely to keep us from having sex. Of course, my parents don't realize that even though I sleep on two pushed-together Single beds at UVan, we've had sex many times on Eric's Single. We're pretty flexible.

I chuckle, realizing how true that is, and wave off Eric's questioning gaze.

My own room is the most eccentric room in the house; during my crazy Broadway obsession phase, I painted my four walls the four colours of the _Rent _logo: canary yellow, cherry red, spring green, and deep turquoise. My furniture is all white, and my shelves are overflowing with knick-knacks and books and DVDs. Eric's eyes widen at the Jake Gyllenhaal poster behind my door and at the sheer number of books stuffed onto my bookcase.

"If you were a room, this would be you to a T."

"Thanks," I laugh and plop onto my Double bed. Eric hesitates to join me and I pout, patting the space next to me. "The door is open. Just sit with me." When he does, he wraps his arms around me and bends down to kiss my neck.

"Hi."

"Hi," I smile back. "That went well, right? I mean, my mom doesn't know what to do with herself and my dad was expecting you to be an asshole and you're not."

"Well, I like to think I'm not. And yeah, so far so good. Wait, did you make me pull over because you knew we wouldn't be able to have sex here?" He whispers the last part, shooting a look towards the open door.

"Yup. You're welcome."

"I'd say thank you, but I can't bring myself to be thankful for not being allowed to have sex for the next week."

I cock my head to the side, watching him. "Thank you. I know you're stressed and unhappy, but thank you for coming to meet my parents. Because I want to keep you, and I want my parents to know that I want to keep you." I pause. "Sorry, did I say too much?" We've only been together for four months, I don't know if I'm allowed to say things like that.

"No." He offers me a reassuring smile. "I'm not unhappy; stressed, yeah, but not unhappy. I would want to do this even if you didn't want me to because I want to keep you too."

"You can keep me for as long as you want." I beam at him, and he leans forward to kiss me, lingering until we hear footsteps coming up the stairs and we break apart. My parents appear in the doorway a moment later.

"We're going to bed," my mom announces, my father balancing out her smile with a suspicious look at Eric. "There's food for you guys in the fridge if you want to eat before you go to bed, _separately_," she grins at us with the last part and we chuckle. I get up and hug them both goodnight, Eric receiving another hug from my mother before they leave. Soon after that, my boyfriend hops into the shower while I head downstairs to see what my mother has left for us. When Eric comes down, he's dressed in a white t-shirt and black sweats and I wink at him before asking if he wants some Shepherd's Pie. We eat quietly at the kitchen counter, washing up the dishes afterwards and loading them into the dishwasher.

"I don't really feel like going to bed," I mutter to nobody in particular.

"Me either." Slipping his arms around my waist, he smiles down at me and I reach up to kiss him. I turn us around so his back is to the stairs and I'm hidden from view as we continue kissing. His tongue slips into my mouth and I moan, pressing my body along his and eliciting a moan of his own when I come in contact with his erection. I trail kisses along his jaw and lick his earlobe.

"Think you can keep an ear to the ground in case my parents come downstairs?" I whisper seductively and he gives me a breathless word of consent. "Good." With that, I drop to my knees and tug down his sweatpants, giving him a long lick. Eric exhales shakily, his hand tangling in my hair momentarily before gripping the edge of the counter instead. Looking up, I find his deep blue, dilated eyes glued to what I'm doing to him and I return to my earlier task. Wanting to tease him, I flick my tongue against the underside of his tip and he cuts off his own groan, attempting to keep quiet. I take his tip into my mouth, hollowing out my cheeks and letting it fall out with a _pop_. He thrusts a bit, making another breathless noise, and I give up on teasing to take him into my mouth and deeper still. Feeling oddly pleased at the gasp I elicit, I redouble my efforts and several minutes later, with a brief stroke of my hand on his balls, he releases warm liquid down my throat. I fix his pants and stand up, noting that his head is still thrown back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his high fades away. I wrap my arms around him and he returns the hug weakly, his heart beating rapidly against his ribs. Nuzzling into my hair, he murmurs a thank you and kisses my temple.

"Do you want to go upstairs so I can…?"

"Naw, it's okay. Can I get a raincheck?" He nods enthusiastically. "Can I get a kiss?" Another enthusiastic nod and I giggle as he leans down to press his lips to mine. "Okay, I think it's time for bed." Holding onto my hand, Eric lets me lead him toward the stairs and I shoot him a look. "I like you after an orgasm, you're so docile."

"Got a bit of a dominatrix in you, eh?"

"Yup. I'd been waiting to whip out the, well, whip."

"Kinky."

"You ain't seen nothing yet." We kiss goodnight and I leave him to take a shower of my own before getting dressed for bed. Lying awake in my bed, I toss and turn, not liking that Eric is just down the hallway but for the first time in several months, I can't go to him. I can't even remember the last time we were in the same building and not falling asleep together. Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I arrange the bed to look like I'm under the covers and tiptoe down the hall.

"Eric?" I peek into the darkened room.

"Yeah, Baby?"

"I can't fall asleep," I meekly tell the darkness because I can't quite see him past making out the shape of the bed.

"Me either. C'mere." Shutting the door noiselessly, I proceed with caution until I feel my shin lightly knock against the bedframe and I climb in. Lying on my side with my back to Eric, I wordlessly suggest he spoon me and he quickly catches on. I smile, feeling his warmth against my back and his scent enveloping me, and I place a hand atop the one he has resting on my lower abdomen.

"Apparently I can't fall asleep without you anymore," my boyfriend murmurs, his warm breath on the back of my neck.

"That's why I came over," I whisper. "I set my alarm on my phone so I can sneak back to my room before my dad gets up for work."

"Worth the risk, huh?"

"I certainly think you are."

**Eric**

"I certainly think you are," she murmurs and her back is to me so she doesn't see what her words do. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling that acute pain in my chest I've come to associate with Sookie, in the best way possible. It's times like this that I don't see the logic in the universe; after Pam, I'd been so raw and so damaged that I'd let myself hit rock bottom. Girl after girl, drink after drink, hit after hit. I'd been such a colossal dick for so many months, had practically singlehandedly gotten rid of my scholarship, until one night I got a call from Flick. She'd called me long-distance from Europe, and she had been crying. I could hear it in every word she said, and even though I had been at a party, I'd pushed my way through the crowd and sat on the porch, not having realized until that moment just how much I missed her voice. Outside of a stranger's house, feeling the cool night air on my skin, I'd practically instantly sobered up as I spoke to my best friend.

She'd been crying for me.

My aunt had sent her an email just a few hours earlier, telling her that she was afraid for me, afraid of losing me, just afraid. She had told my best friend about everything; the accident, Pam, everything afterwards that I had thought my aunt had been ignorant of, but in reality she had seen it all.

Everything I hadn't told Flick because I hadn't wanted to worry her.

I'd dismissed every attempt my aunt had made to make me snap out of it, and it wasn't until Flick called me at two in the morning from some hostel in Lyons that I'd taken a moment to reexamine my life. She was scared for me, Flick had told me. She missed me, she loved me, she was terrified. She was coming home, as soon as she could, because she couldn't, wouldn't let me bury myself alive. _You're my best friend and you're my everything and I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you, but I love you too fucking much to let you kill yourself when I'm on the other side of the world._ By that point, I had been crying too, curling into myself because I missed her, needed her, and I was so, so sorry. _Don't, don't come home. I'll be okay, I promise. I'll get better. I swear I'll stop. _

I loved her so much. She needed Europe after what that asshole Charlie did to her, breaking up with her right before they got married. She needed that more than I needed her. I promised her I would work on it, that by the time she got back, I would be better. And I was. When she visited me in Vancouver in October, I'd become her Eric again. _God, I missed you so much,_ I had whispered and she had clung to me in that wordless way she had.

I never told Sookie, but Flick knew. Because even after I got over the nameless girls and the tequila, I hadn't been myself. I went to school, worked hard, played soccer, did my best. I kept my scholarship and went to UVan, but Sookie walking into my room that first day was the first time I even flirted with anyone since Flick's trans-Atlantic phone call. And yeah, I'd flirted with other girls after that, slipped once with some girl from the fifth floor, but from that first moment, it had been Sookie.

It's always going to be Sookie, and I haven't even done anything to deserve her, but she thought I was worth it. She loves me. And I love her so fucking much, I don't even care that her dad gave me the stinkeye, that we technically have to be sleeping in separate rooms for the next week.

By the time I yank myself out of my thoughts, Sookie's breathing has evened out and I tug the covers further up over us and close my eyes. Several hours later, I'm awakened at the sound of Bruno Mars singing _Just The Way You Are_. Sookie grumbles something and hits the snooze button on her phone, pushing me away to sit up.

"I have to go back to my bed." She moves to stand up but my arm wraps around her waist and pulls her back down.

"Kiss me first."

"Oh, okay." She obliges happily, and I love that we've reached the stage where we've gotten over morning breath. I smack her ass and she yelps as she walks away, shutting the door behind her. I contemplate falling asleep but I can't anymore, so I let my eyes wander around the room. The room is pretty generic, typical boy room with its minimalistic furniture and nothing on the walls save for the Megan Fox poster that I roll my eyes at. My girlfriend is hotter than any Hollywood starlet and I grin, imagining the way she will roll her eyes if I tell her that. Eventually I drag my ass out of bed and do a few sets of sit-ups and push-ups before showering the sweat off of me and getting dressed. It's only seven by the time I head downstairs, following the sounds of somebody moving around, and I find Mr Stackhouse drinking coffee and reading the newspaper at the kitchen table. I had definitely been hoping it was Mrs Stackhouse who was down here, but it's too late to turn back now.

"Good morning, sir."

"Eric, good morning. Coffee? Help yourself." I pour myself a cup, retrieving a mug from the cabinet he points me to before joining him. "I'm going to get right down to it," Sookie's father announces, pushing the paper away. "What are your intentions with my daughter?"

"I love her, sir."

That elicits a raised brow. "That was a quick answer."

"Didn't require much thought, honestly."

"She love you?"

"That's what she tells me." I smile.

"You're awfully young to be throwing that word around."

"I'd respectfully disagree."

"Are you going to hurt her?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Good. As long as you remember that, we won't have a problem."

"And if I forget?" I blurt out before I can help myself, my curiosity getting the best of me.

"That's the beauty of living in a podunk town, Eric. I have a shotgun in the hall closet, just remember that."

"Will do, sir."

"And you can drop the 'sir' business. It's Corbett." He pats my shoulder as he stands up, putting his mug in the sink and saying goodbye as he leaves for work. I sit by myself at the kitchen table as the sun rises, and I'm on my second mug of coffee by the time Sookie's mother joins me.

"Sweetie, how long have you been up?" I suppress the grin at her term of endearment, and answer her question. We make small talk as she starts making breakfast, asking me if I would prefer eggs or pancakes and refusing to take 'no' for an answer. The answer is pancakes, always, and she proceeds to make me the best made-from-scratch pancakes I have ever devoured in my entire life, with a side of sausages and fresh fruit. She pops a plate into the oven for Sookie and asks me, in a casual tone, if I know her daughter loves me.

"If I didn't, this would be a pretty terrible way for me to find out, wouldn't it?"

"No, because if you don't love her, you need to let her go right now."

"I've loved her since the first time I saw her, Mrs Stackhouse."

There's a long pause and I have to wonder if somehow I've said the wrong thing, but then she tells me to call her Michelle and that she has a dentist appointment she needs to get to. She'll be back in one hour, one hour at the soonest, she emphasizes, shooting me a pointed look and grabbing her purse to head out. I smile, shaking my head at the absurdity of this whole family, and abandon my half-empty third mug to run upstairs and hop into bed with my girlfriend.

"What are you doing?"

"Your dad's at work, and your mom is giving us an hour while she goes to the dentist."

"She told you that?" Sookie rolls over to give me a dubious, drowsy look.

"Yup. Your mom is kind of awesome. Now I know who you get it from." I lean down to kiss her neck and nibble at her ear. She moans and the sound goes straight to my cock.

"Why are you still dressed, Eric?" Why, indeed. I hop out to close the door and undress, leaving my jeans and long-sleeved shirt in a pile on the floor. Retrieving a condom from my wallet, I see that Sookie is naked now too, propping herself up on her elbows to regard me with a smile.

"I owe you," I smile, moving to nudge her thighs apart but she shakes her head and reaches to pull me up.

"Later. I just want you right now, okay?" I smile at her smile. I like going down on her, but if she wants something else right now, I can roll with that too. I settle my hips between hers, feeling her warmth spread to my body. Capturing her lips, I linger before moving on to kiss her neck, knowing how much she loves it. She moans and wraps her legs around me, and I ache for her when I feel her wet heat _on_ me. Dropping a hand, I test her readiness and Sookie squirms restlessly into my touch so I take a second to roll on the latex.

"Eric," she murmurs, her slim fingers that had tangled into my hair dropping to my ass to urge me forward. Guiding myself to her entrance, I lower myself onto my elbows and surge forward, burying myself inside her.

"Oh god, Eric." Her arms wrap tightly around my shoulders and she turns her head into my neck, her warm breath tickling my skin. I close my eyes, just absorbing the feel of her muscles tight around me. "Baby, you've got to move," she whimpers and I am more than happy to oblige. She's so perfect, her fingers digging into my back, her hair splayed over her pillow as I bury myself as deeply as I can inside her. I love the little noises she makes, gasping my name with every thrust of my hips. I transfer my weight to one elbow and tweak her nipples with my free hand, my rhythm never faltering as I drive us both closer to climax.

"Eric, I'm so close. Baby," her hands tighten in my hair and I thrust a bit more roughly, setting off her orgasm and my own as I shudder and she spasms around me. I thrust a half-dozen more times before pulling out to discard the condom and lay half atop her body. I tuck my head into her neck and kiss her damp skin, draping a leg across her hips.

"How much more time do we have?" she asks and I lift my head to glance at the alarm clock.

"Forty-five minutes. It would have been fifty-five, but I took my time." I add that last bit with a smile and she giggles, pressing a kiss into my forehead.

"Want to go again?"

"Do you even know me?" The answer is yes. Always yes. She's on top of me the next second and we start all over again.

Thirty minutes later we're kissing lazily, tangled in the sheets and deeply sated. We haul each other out of bed and grab clothes to take a quick shower, my second one today. We emerge not long after, having kept our hands mostly to ourselves, and we quickly dry off and dress. I watch Sookie run some raspberry-scented product through her hair and reach to style my own hair but she smacks my hands away from the bottle of gel.

"What?"

"I like your hair without product."

"You put product in your hair!" I may like it, but that's not the point. I like to style my hair back and out of my face, but she likes the strands product-free to run her hands through.

"But you like it," she calls me out on it.

"What's in it for me?" I indicate the bottle of gel. "Will you not wear makeup?"

"Eric," she whines. "I look better with it."

"You look better without." Winning the morning sex argument gave me confidence. She looks beautiful either way, but I love the way she looks first thing in the morning, even though she thinks her hair looks like shit and she looks "ugly". I'm pretty sure the last time she looked "ugly" was when she was in the seventh grade.

"You're biased, because you love me."

"Right. So be beautiful for me this one day."

"As opposed to all the other days when I look terrible?" Oh, there's that look, the one that tells me I'm very close to getting myself into trouble. I lift her onto the counter and stand between her parted knees, twisting a piece of her damp, raspberry-scented hair around my finger.

"As opposed to all the other days when you do what makes you think you look more beautiful. You're gorgeous without the mascara and that other stuff." I nudge the compact sitting half-opened beside her on the counter. "In my humble, biased opinion, you're gorgeous first thing in the morning, without makeup." She looks properly humbled and smiles shyly at me. Turning to snap shut the compact, she puts it back inside her makeup bag and tosses her mascara in there after it.

"Well hey there, beautiful." I lean forward and she meets me halfway, pressing her lips to mine and resting her hands on my shoulders. Giggling, she swings her feet a little bit and breaks the kiss to hug me instead.

888

A couple of days later, we're running a few errands for Michelle and picking up some groceries. It's a tiny supermarket, by city standards, but I still find myself carting milk and flour around the handful of aisles it has as Sookie runs through the list her mother gave her.

"We need jam. I think that's this way." My girlfriend heads off without looking to see if I'm following and I murmur "yes, dear" as I push the cart down the aisle.

Rounding the corner, I ask, "Weren't the jams the other way? I thought I saw some…" I stop when I realize how very little attention I'm being paid, since Sookie is too busy gaping at a man who appears to be _leering_ at my girlfriend.

"Bill, what are you doing here?"

I've already decided I don't like this guy, but he's short, which gives me a strange sense of satisfaction. Shorter than me, though still taller than Sookie, and he has dark hair styled to fall in his face and dark eyes. I remember a quote from some movie about eyes being brown because the owner is full of shit, and for once I've found someone I feel the saying applies to.

"I came to see my grandmother." Bill says, ignoring me. "You know how she is, and she's not doing too well."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sookie offers politely and I abandon the cart to move beside her.

"Sook?"

"Oh, god, I'm sorry. Eric, this is Bill. Bill, this is my boyfriend, Eric." Bill's beady little eyes dart to me, the corners of his mouth turning downwards in displeasure and I stoke the fire by slipping an arm around Sookie's waist.

"It's nice to meet you, Bill." It's not at all nice to meet you, Bill. You look like a douche and you're looking at my girlfriend like she's your dessert.

"Likewise." He doesn't seem to think it's nice to meet me either. "I can see why you dumped Quinn, Sookie."

"I beg your pardon?" Sookie scoffs and I reel in my own temper to watch her handle this.

"I'm surprised it took you so long to move on. But then again, you always were pretty good at that, weren't you?" He says the last par with a sneer, like he's made some clever joke and I have to clench my fists to keep from hitting him.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about, William," she snaps in a tone that could freeze water. I hope to God she never directs that tone at me.

"Does he know you were mine first?" He asks, not taking his eyes off of me and Sookie's entire body goes rigid next to mine. Dropping my hand to take hers, I stroke soothing circles onto the back and wish to God I could pummel this guy to death.

"I was never yours." She speaks quietly, the picture of calm as she adds, "But I am his." I have to suppress my laughter at the shade of red Bill turns, and I lean down to whisper in Sookie's ear, suggesting we leave. She gives me a curt nod and we take the groceries we've gotten so far and leave, figuring we can always come back if Michelle really needs whatever we've missed.

I don't ask anything in the car, figuring she's far too angry right now to tell me and that I'll know about her history with him soon enough. She seethes all the way home, her jaw clenched as I help her put everything away.

"Oh, you guys are back. I didn't hear you come in," Michelle smiles as she walks into the kitchen but lets it fade when she picks up on her daughter's mood. "Did you two get into a fight or something?" She asks me quietly when Sookie grumbles a 'hello' and stomps upstairs. There's the sound of her door slamming and then silence as Michelle regards me with amusement.

"What have you done?"

"I didn't do anything! We ran into some guy at the store; Bill?" I watch realization dawn on the older woman's face. "What, who is this guy?"

"I think it's better she tell you herself. Go to her." She nods toward the stairs and I contemplate letting Sookie cool down first, but figure out that I'd rather go to her and be sent away then leave her alone when she actually wants me around. Her tone, when I knock on the door and she invites me in, is so weary that I'm sure she's crying, but she's not.

"Hey," I call and she offers me a bare hint of a smile from where she's lying down on the bed.

"I'm so sorry you had to witness that."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I should have just walked away. You must be so confused right now."

I shrug, joining her on the bed. She moves closer to me and I drape an arm over her side, bringing her closer to me for a kiss. "Tell me."

"We dated, in high school. It seems so stupid, but I was so crazy about him. He's a couple of years older, which is always an iffy situation when you're dating in high school, but I didn't care. Even my parents weren't too sure about it, but he'd just moved here, so his mom could take care of his grandmother, and nobody really knew him. And my parents trusted me, so they let us date."

"But?"

"He pressured me for sex from the start. I was going to sleep with him anyways, but he pushed so hard for it that I balked, and then he cheated on me because I couldn't 'satisfy his needs'." She rolls her eyes and tries to shake it off, but I can see it still bothers her. "That's why I held out for so long with Quinn; it's why I stuck with him for so long in the first place because he accepted that I didn't want to have sex with him. I'm glad I never slept with Bill, and we broke up right after I found out about his infidelity, but he still acts like I brought it upon myself, which is untrue."

"What a classy guy," I observe and then, to distract myself from how much I want to track him down and punch him out, I add, "Thank god you upgraded."

Sookie laughs, bringing her body flush against mine, and says, "Thank god I did."

888

The next few days go by rather quickly and the next thing I know, I'm hugging Michelle goodbye and accepting the handshake Corbett is offering me. I lean against my car, watching Sookie's parents say goodbye to her until the next time they see her, which will most likely be after finals. I open her door for her before heading to the driver's side. We wave at the Stackhouses as I pull out of the driveway and we head home.

"So that wasn't too bad," Sookie observes.

"It wasn't bad at all," I smile over at her. "I think they like me, right?"

"My mom adores you. I'm pretty sure she would steal you if she could."

"I guess my ability to reel in Stackhouse women is not just limited to you," I tease and she smacks my thigh.

"Jerk." I feign hurt, but the truth is I'm thrilled that her parents seem to like me. It would have made things much more complicated if her parents didn't approve. She leans over to kiss my cheek, as consolation, and I smile without taking my eyes off the road. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sookie bring her knees up to the dashboard and get comfortable just as I turn onto the highway.


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: So I guess I may have forgotten to mention: the University of Vancouver is a fictional location. The university in Vancouver is the University of British Columbia, but I thought it would be fun to make my own university (when else would I get to do that, right?). All other locations (other than Bon Temps, of course) are factual.

As always, thanks to all of you who read and review. I love hearing what you guys think, so keep it comin'! Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 7_

**March 2011**

**Sookie**

At the beginning of March, Eric's soccer team is invited to spend a long weekend at a camp in Kelowna to "promote team spirit and bonding". They're set to leave Thursday evening and will be coming back early Monday morning, hopefully refreshed and with a greater understanding of what it means to be a team. I tease him about this, suggesting that it's a cult camp and that he'll come back brainwashed and without any recollection of me. Grumbling, he tells me that "girls just don't understand sports" and I kick him in the shin, feeling a bit of guilt when he still limps over to kiss me goodbye.

The bus, I later learn, careens over the edge of a cliff just outside of Hope, BC, at approximately 7 PM. It's probably not nearly as dramatic as my imagination tells me it was, but that doesn't make it at all better. I don't find out until almost a quarter to eight, when my cellphone rings and an unknown number flashes on my screen. Pausing the episode of _Friends_ I'm watching, I lean back in my seat and press the Call button.

"Hello?" I frown, nibbling on a fry.

"Hi Sook," Eric greets me but his voice is off enough that I pick up on the something-not-quite-right vibe.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"Okay, I need you to not freak out, alright?"

Well, that was ineffective. "What's wrong?"

"The bus, there was an accident," he begins slowly.

"_What_."

"I'm fine," he hurries to add. "I just wanted you to hear it from me instead of someone else."

I clutch at my necklace, a nervous habit of mine. "Okay, do you need me to come pick you up?"

"Um, sorta. I know it's far but I'd really rather not have to wait until tomorrow for them to get us another bus."

"Yeah, no, of course," I stand up quickly, knocking over my chair and hurrying to locate the keys Eric left with me; I'd told him I needed to run some errands and he'd insisted I use his car. "I'm leaving right now."

"Can you bring me the sweats I left in your room?" I tell him I can. "Be careful, okay? I'm not going anywhere, you don't need to hurry," he jokes weakly.

Exhaling forcefully, I nod before realizing he can't see me. "Right. Okay. I'll see you soon, 'kay?" He tells me where he is and we hang up, saying that we love each other before we do. Hastily, I grab a sweater and a quilt off my bed in addition to the sweatpants and zip-up hoodie Eric left behind in my room the other day. Sending a quick text off to Amelia and Tara, I book it down the stairs and find myself backing out of the parking spot within five minutes. Thankfully, the roads are relatively empty of traffic post-rush hour and I'm free to speed until I remember that I'm no good to Eric if I get into a car accident too. At a red light on the edges of the city, I retrieve my iPod from my purse and attach it to the dock Eric installed himself, scrolling through to my favourite OneRepublic song and leaving it to shuffle through the albums I have. It's a two-hour drive to Hope, which sounds like the title of an 80's love anthem, and I chuckle. At some point, I switch to shuffling through my entire music library and before I know it, I'm past Chilliwack and a mere half hour away from my destination. I wish I could call Eric but figure that his phone suffered a painful death in the accident, so I just follow the directions he gave me and soon, I'm pulling into the crowded parking lot of a relatively small clinic teeming with police cars and ambulances. "Teeming" being a relative term in Hope, equivalent to only a few vehicles. The nurse at the reception seems unwilling to let me into the emergency area and I have to work myself into tears; quivering chin, pouty lips, the whole nine yards. Sighing, the middle-aged woman leads me through the maze of curtained-off beds. Eric is lying in a bed in a hospital gown, looking drowsy and a tad forlorn until he sees me and the corners of his lips quirk upwards.

"Oh my god, Eric." I want to throw my arms around him but settle on grabbing his left hand; he is holding his right arm close to his body, like it's in an invisible sling. "Are you okay? What happened?" I stroke his hair and inspect him, taking note of the cut on his brow ridge and the smudges of dirt on his cheeks. His lips are dry and his hair is messy, crusted with a bit of blood and tiny shards of glass.

"I'm okay," he reassures me, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "My shoulder got dislocated, but they already popped it back in. They're getting me a sling for it."

"Did they knock you out?"

"Yeah, just for a little bit, to avoid the pain. I woke up a while ago and they took me for another x-ray just in case. It looks good apparently." He seems to stop himself from shrugging, and I exhale.

"And the rest of you?" I look down at the bare feet sticking out from under the covers. "You're all bloody."

"Just a few scratches."

"Is everyone else okay?" I ask him quietly.

"Yeah," he clears his throat. "A couple of broken bones, lacerations and stuff, but they'll all be okay I think."

I nod and press a kiss into his forehead, rubbing a hand up and down his good arm. "And this is it? You're okay otherwise?" I feel like such a mother.

"I'm fine," he promises, looking a tad amused.

"Good, thank god." Perching on the edge of his bed, I brush my lips over his.

"Baby I'm all gross," he pulls away.

"I don't care, I'm just glad you're okay." I kiss him again and then take his hand into my lap. "Are you allowed to leave?"

"Yeah, as soon as they bring me my sling and discharge papers. It'll be against medical advice, but I don't want to stay here." Fair enough; losing someone in a hospital does little to make one comfortable in the whole sterile atmosphere, and his loss was so drowned in guilt and hurt that I can't imagine how he must be feeling right now. I wait with him, mentally telling myself off for constantly touching him in some way until he shoots me a look that tells me he liked it, so I go back to stroking through his hair. He doesn't say anything, just watches me watch him, and I offer him a reassuring smile.

"Thank you for coming."

"Of course I did. You're staying with me when we get home, okay?" I murmur and he nods, not putting up an argument even though I fully expected it.

"Will you take care of me?" He pouts, all cutesy and I can't help chuckling even as I nod.

"I'll take good care of you," I promise, winking to elicit a raised brow.

It takes another half an hour – during which I sneak away to pick up his painkillers from the hospital's pharmacy – before Eric is finally discharged with a whole boatful of things for me to look out for if he's going to leave against medical advice. Apparently they wanted to keep him overnight to make sure he's not concussed and there's no internal bleeding, but one look at Eric tells me there is no way he is spending the night here and I don't say anything else. I help him get dressed, tugging the clean sweatpants I brought over his boxers and zipping the hoodie up over his sling. He shoots me an awkward smile and I'm careful to not look condescending or pitying when I smile back. We let Coach Patterson know that we're leaving and not long after we're on the road, Eric wrapping himself in the quilt, preparing for a nap. Taking his good hand to kiss it, I'm surprised when instead of pulling it away afterwards, he reaches for mine. I give it a squeeze and hold it in my lap, leaving it there whenever I need the extra hand for driving.

I have to keep from switching on the stereo as his sleep deepens, which would bore me to death any other day except tonight I'm too relieved that Eric is sitting safe and sound next to me to care about the silence. It's way past midnight by the time we're back home and I nudge awake a very groggy Eric to lead him up to the seventh floor.

"I need a shower." He pauses in my doorway.

"Okay. Do you need my help?"

He considers it, considers the difficulties of it all and shakes his head 'no'.

Or his pride shakes his head 'no'.

"Honey, it's not a big deal. We can just go into the handicap bathroom and I can shower with you." Nobody uses the handicap bathroom in our wing anyways. Well, nobody who _needs_ it.

"It's fine, Sook."

"Please?" Change your tactics, Stackhouse. "I just don't want to leave you." I give him my most effective puppy dog eyes and he relents. I grab us both fresh clothes and we walk to the bathroom, discreetly shutting the door behind us and locking it. Taking the sling off, I help him out of his clothes, expressionlessly to keep him from feeling too embarrassed. Stripping myself down once he's naked, I join him in the shower and wash all the crap out of his hair, scrubbing off all the dirt from his body. It's a testament to how exhausted he is that he barely even gets aroused as I help him wash up and then do the same for myself. Afterwards we towel off and I help him dress in a pair of boxers and sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt considering the sling. I wear one of his old band t-shirts and my own pajama shorts and we head back to my room, talking softly amongst ourselves. In my bed, I curl my body into his side and rub my hand over his abdomen.

"Thank you." He presses a kiss into my hair and I inhale the scent of his soap, telling him that it was no problem.

"I love you the most. Are you really okay?"

"Hmm, I will be," he promises. "And I love you more."

"Unlikely," I giggle.

"Sookie?" he asks after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we can…?"

"You're not too tired? But you're hurt."

"You can be on top. Come on," he nuzzles my hair. "I want you."

"Are you _sure_?"

"I'm _sure_ I want to be inside you" His voice drops to _that_ pitch and I sit up to take off my clothes and slide off his bottoms. Straddling his hips, I kiss him and mouth at his neck as I feel myself, and him, grow more aroused. Wriggling around, he sits up against the headboard and captures my nipples in his mouth, one at a time. I moan and ease myself down on him, experimentally moving my hips against his, anticipating a groan of pain.

"You won't break me. Faster," he pants and I grab the ledge above my bed to increase my speed. His good arm grasps my hip to direct me, as much as it can, and I abandon the ledge to hold his head to my chest, loving the feel of his warm mouth on my nipple. He groans and grazes his teeth over the hard buds and I gasp out if he's close.

"Yeah, are you?"

The moan I give in response sounds like it's being wrenched out of me and I nod, loving the feel of him inside me even though we had sex this morning, knowing that he was leaving for the camp this evening. But this is different, because I had been so afraid, so terrified that he was not okay, and now he is, at least physically, and in my arms to top it all off.

"Eric," I gasp when he thumbs at my clit and then I'm spasming around his length, feeling him release inside of me a second later.

"We didn't use a condom," he breathes, placing wet kisses on my shoulders.

"I'm on the pill. And I needed you."

"You needed me?" He asks with a grin, looking up as I move off of him, staying in his lap.

"Yup," I push back his still-damp hair. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Me too." He grins and I kiss him one last time before reclaiming my spot at his side and falling asleep not long after.

I wake up at eight-thirty the next morning and sit up, looking down at Eric. There are bruises that have formed since last night, above his hip and a massive one over his injured shoulder. There are more scratches that I didn't really notice last night, the most noticeable ones on his hands, and I pull my knees up to my chest and just watch him, all quasi-stalkerish. His hair has dried all feather-y and I can't wait until he wakes up and gets a good look at it considering how careful he is about styling it every morning. There is stubble growing on his face and the cut on his brow ridge has scabbed over, and I can see his eyes moving beneath his lids as he dreams. Taking a deep breath, he makes himself more comfortable and smacks his lips as his sleep lightens. I smile and graze my thumb around his belly button where I know he is ticklish. He makes my most favourite sound in the world, squirming to get away and I grin, bending down to kiss his tummy.

"Mmm, what are you doing?" He opens one eye and smiles at me.

"Nothing," I smile back and lay next to him, propping myself up on an arm.

"Don't you have class in half an hour?"

"I'm not going."

"Why not?" He frowns and angles his head away from me to get a better look.

"I'd rather stay with you." Grinning, I lean forward to steal a brief kiss but he secures my face against his with his good hand. We kiss for the longest time until I squirm, aroused, and he directs me to straddle him again.

"Can you sit up?" I ask once our clothes have been shed and he nods. One arm around his neck and the other digging into the mattress for leverage, I move with him inside me and we make love, slowly. I cling to him as we shudder through our respective orgasms and afterwards, he lays with his head on my stomach.

We spend the following week together like that, staying in bed and doing not much at all until the weekend, at which point we begin to accept that maybe we need to start doing things other than the other.

We find out that the driver of the bus dozed off after an all-night shift and drove straight where the road curved. Thankfully, the bus went into a ditch and not over a cliff into a valley. Not-so-thankfully, the accident causes severe brain edema for one of Eric's teammates, Alcide, who slips into a coma as a result. I had met Alcide at the bar and he had always been friendly and open, a popular on the team and one of Eric's closest friends. We visit him at the hospital once he gets transferred to Vancouver, and I watch my boyfriend's jaw tighten and something lock down in his eyes when we step into the hospital room. It becomes a little difficult to differentiate between happy Eric and unhappy Eric after that. It's as if the accident and his friend's severe injury scared him more than he'd like to admit, like it bore too much resemblance to the accident two Octobers ago. It breaks my heart to see the distant look in his eyes, even though he brushes me off everytime I try to talk to him about it. He moves back to his own room at the end of the week, even though I insist he doesn't have to, and I find myself worrying about him when I don't know what he's up to. It isn't until nearly three weeks after the accident, two of which are spent together-but-not, that I find out he has yet to return to his classes, and we get into a screaming match wherein he tells me I don't know what the hell I'm talking about because I wasn't in the accident, and I scream back that I would know what the hell I'm talking about if only he talked to me. We fall silent after that, our chests rising and falling rapidly as we stare at each other, frustrated beyond words.

"I'm going to leave," I tell him quietly and my hand's on the knob when I hear his quiet, "Don't go". His words take all the wind out of my sail and I rest my forehead against the door as the tears begin falling down my face.

"Don't, please don't," he begs quietly and spins me around to pull me into his arms, well, arm and sling. It's an awkward embrace but I don't care because we have barely even kissed in the past weeks, let alone had sex, and I've missed him desperately.

"Can I please just have my boyfriend back?"

"I haven't gone anywhere."

"Yes, you have. Ever since the accident. It's like you're not even here anymore."

"Sookie."

"I get it, okay? I understand that it freaked you out, that it reminded you of your other accident. I get that that you're worried about your friend. I'll help you do whatever it takes for you to get better, whatever you need, but I can't let you just shut me out. I wish I could, it'd be so much easier I'm sure, but I love you too much to let you. I just love you too fucking much. And I miss you, and I'm scared for you, and I'm scared for us because it feels like I'm losing you, and you mean the world to me." He pulls me away to give me a long look, and I fight to release the air in my lungs because of the intensity of his eyes. He seems to have found whatever he had been searching for because his lips crashes down on me, our mutual love degenerating into overwhelming lust as we fuck on his bedroom floor. Afterwards, exhausted but sated, he kisses my hair and apologizes quietly, and I do too.

"I know it's not the same thing as last time," he tells me. "All the doctors say it's only a matter of time until he wakes up. With Pam, there was never any hope." Helping him up, we dress and settle on his bed. "I thought I was going to die," he continues. "Even though it was a relatively minor crash. For a split second, I felt like I'd somehow gotten lucky the last time and this was it, my extra time was up. And I kept thinking about everything I'd thought about before, that I should have died, that it was my fault, that, I don't know, I should have handled things differently when I found out about Pam."

"God, please don't think that way." I take his hands into mine and kiss the back. "That was never your fault, and this sure as hell isn't."

"I know, I know. There's no reasoning behind anything that happens so I shouldn't even bother thinking about it." He leans his head back against the wall but then turns to look at me. "And I thought about you," he murmurs.

"What about me?"

"That I loved you, that I don't ever want to lose you."

It breaks my heart a little bit, his words and the look in his eyes, but there's nothing for me to say that he doesn't already know so instead I cup his face in mine and press my lips lightly against his. Pulling myself into his lap, I wrap my arms around his body and rest my head on his shoulder, wordlessly breathing him in.

"I don't want to lose you either. In any way. You're my favourite person in the whole wide world," I pout in a way I hope is adorable and he seems to agree because he kisses my forehead and rests his own against mine, smiling the entire time.

"You're my favourite person too. Well, second favourite. Rebecca Romijn is my favourite."

"Ah, and is Rebecca Romijn letting you get in _her_ pants?"

"Well, not now, but I would want to keep my options open, right?"

"Well, I suggest you rethink your little list before I make your options wide open."

"Will it make you feel better if I dump Rebecca?" He asks with a wistful sigh.

I nod, pouty lips and all.

"Will you dump Jake Gyllenhaal?"

"I'll think about it," I promise and laugh when he groans, leaning forward to kiss him.

Alcide wakes up three days later, and we visit him that very day. He appears okay, smiling but seeming rather shocked that he had spent over three weeks in a coma. He and Eric joke around a little, which seems to set him at ease quite a bit, like it's all the confirmation he needed that his friend will be okay. He spends that night in my room, and we barely speak at all, just holding onto the other until we drift off.

**Mid-April 2011**

**Eric**

Her hand on the doorknob, I say, "Sook, come on, let's talk about this."

"You want to talk?" She spins around and hisses at me, blue eyes blazing with anger. I don't think I've ever seen her this angry, in the past several months of knowing her. Now, she's beyond furious and it's all directed at me. "Let's talk. Let's talk about how it makes me sick to my stomach that in the past eight months, six of which we have spent _together_, you haven't bothered to tell me that Arlene has been propositioning you, and hitting on you, and trying to seduce you whenever I'm not around. Let's _talk_, about how you didn't trust me enough to tell me something that we could have laughed about, had you bothered to share the information with me. Let's talk, Eric, about how she told me you kissed her."

"What?" I blurt out, shocked.

She snorts. "I'm guessing you didn't?"

"She kissed me. I pulled away and told her to get the hell away."

Rubbing at her face, she regards me tiredly. "When was this?"

"When you guys all went out for Tara's birthday." I had been forced to stay in, because of a midterm I had had the following morning, and Arlene had popped in for her typical let's-hit-on-Eric marathon. I had pushed her away and told her to stop, just fucking stop.

Now, Sookie looks like she had nothing to say, and neither do I. No matter how crazy I think Arlene is, I would have never guessed that she would come out and tell Sookie. Arlene had asked where I was and made some snide remark when Sookie had said she didn't know, something about my schedule not being the only thing she doesn't know about me, and Sookie had asked her what the hell she was talking about. I can't imagine how it must have felt for her to hear that, coming from Arlene of all people, and all of a sudden I see past the anger and see the _hurt_. She's hurt that I didn't trust her? It wasn't about trust. I had kept it to myself because it didn't matter to me; Arlene could show up naked in my room and I'd kick her out and go about my life. The less-than-subtle invitations and offered drinks at parties and suggestions to "study together" had been nothing, deserving little more than a succinct dismissal. Even if I didn't love Sookie, Arlene wouldn't be more than a blip on my radar.

Sookie had been a freaking neon streak across it.

And now she's mad at me. Furious, shaking with her anger and waiting for me to explain myself.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't care, Sook," I tell her, my voice having dropped in volume.

"You think I would have?"

"You would have been upset." Kind of like now.

"Kind of like now?" She sighs. "If you had told me, I would have been entertained at how oblivious she is, because you're faithful to me and have no interest in her. I know that. I used to know it with complete certainty. But now? You keeping this from me for all this time makes me question you, Eric. I find myself wondering why the hell you would try so hard not to keep me in the loop. I find myself wondering what else there is you're not sharing."

"Sookie, I have nothing to hide." I'm shocked that she would even think that.

"But apparently you do, because you did! You lost a bit of my trust, Eric. I had to hear from _her_ that not only does she not have _any_ respect for me and our relationship, but that you evidently didn't think I would be able to move past the idea of somebody else wanting you. Even after the Tania thing. _Especially _after the Tania thing."

"I didn't think of it like that," I mumble. "I didn't care about it, because I don't care about her. It didn't matter what she did, I'm never going to be interested in her, and I didn't see the point in telling you something that had no influence on us."

"But it did. And it does. You did exactly what she wanted to happen; you let her drive a wedge between us." I sigh, properly chastised. She's right; I really hadn't thought about it that way, but I can see her side of things now.

"I'm sorry," I tell her solemnly, hoping she can sense how sincere I am.

She seems to deflate a little, and the anger drains away from her features. "I hate that all this time, every time I saw her in the bathroom or walked past her in the hallway, she's been thinking about the last time she came on to you and how clueless she thinks I am. Which I was. I hate that she considered me a schmuck, and you made me look like one."

"I'm so sorry, baby." I reach forward to hold her, and she takes a step back.

"No. I'm mad at you right now. You don't get to apologize and make everything better. I'll come to you when I'm ready to accept your apology." With that, she turns around and walks out of my room, letting it click softly behind her.

888

Sookie doesn't talk to me for two whole days after that. I don't text her, wanting to respect her need for some space, but I hope for more than just a nod in acknowledgement when we run into each other. For the first time, I get a glimpse of what it would have been like if she had been right and us dating had ended disastrously. We run into each other all the time, in the mornings and at night, in the kitchen, in the lounge. I welcome the incidents, hoping for something every time our eyes meet, but by the second night I have spent not wrapped around her in bed, I'm ready to climb the walls. Bang my head against her door. Do _something_ that'll make her stop the silent treatment.

Finally she does, by knocking on my door after dinner on the third night. I open the door and smile at her in a way I imagine is hopeful. She smiles back and holds out the pint of Häagen Dazs. It's White Chocolate Raspberry Truffle, my secret favourite.

"I'm done being angry."

I release the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding and take a hesitant step forward, holding out my arms and hoping she'll step into them. Without even hesitating, she wraps her arms around my waist and I smile, feeling the cold of the ice cream against my back.

"I am so, so sorry," I whisper into her hair.

"From now on, you tell me if she does something. I mean it, Eric. Don't do something that'll make you lose more of my trust." She pulls back a little bit, to hear my response, and I just nod at her.

"I promise. I love you."

"I love you too." She reaches up on her tiptoes and I meet her lips halfway, reveling in the first taste of her lips I've gotten in 72 hours. "Do you want dessert?" She asks me sweetly.

"I want dessert, but not ice cream." I waggle my eyebrows and she blushes, leaving the ice cream on a shelf as I pull her towards the bed.

A while later, we share the half-melted pint of ice cream as we watch _Zoolander_, naked and with her in my arms.

**Late April - May 2011**

"You ready?"

We're parked outside the old bungalow, waiting for my heart to cease hammering in my chest after the six and a half hour drive from Bon Temps to Osoyoos. Eric had driven to my house yesterday, and spent the night there, before heading back with me.

"Yeah. You think she'll like me?"

"She'll love you, because she'll see that I love you." I smile, at his perfect response.

"Okay, let's go." It's so warm, especially here. I brush invisible dirt off of my nicest shorts and tanktop.

"You look lovely, stop fussing." He takes my hand and leads me up the stairs onto the narrow porch. He calls out before unlocking the door and leading me inside. Kicking off his flip flops, he waits while I take off my strappy sandals and peers around the foyer. The house is impeccable, with old but well-maintained furniture.

"Aunt Thalia?" He calls out again and there's a sound from the floor beneath us, and a tiny, middle-aged woman emerges.

"Oh, I didn't hear you come in." Thalia smiles at Eric. It's clear that they're related, judging by their similar eyes and hair colour. He has already been home, before driving to Bon Temps to pick me up, and that explains why she's not making a big fuss over her boy like Eric told me she does.

"I have my key," Eric reminds her and she rolls her eyes before pulling him into her arms. I watch, with a smile, at the way his large body encompasses hers. She's several inches shorter than even me, and I'm only 5'6".

"And you must be Sookie." She pulls away from Eric to beam at me, a lovely, kind smile. "Eric couldn't stop talking about you. He practically skipped right out the door to come and get you."

"I didn't _skip_," he mumbles, ears flushing red.

"Awwww." I give his hand a squeeze before pulling back to offer my hand to his aunt. She bypasses it and pulls me into a hug, to tell me that someone who has managed to render her 'darling boy' lovestruck deserves a hug. I hear Eric grumble something and stomp off to leave me alone with his aunt.

"It's wonderful to meet you, dear."

"Thank you, Ms Northman." Eric told me her divorce went through last week, so it's back to Northman once again.

"Oh, call me Thalia."

"Yes, Thalia." I grin at her.

"Well, come on in. Where's your suitcase?"

"In the car."

"Eric," she calls and his head pops out from what I assume is the kitchen. "Get Sookie's bags from your car."

"Yes ma'am." It's entertaining to see Eric so readily obey somebody, and I smile as he stomps back out, and Thalia leads me to the kitchen.

"Iced tea? I'm already sweating here, it's so much cooler in the basement. I rarely come up here all summer."

"Oh yes please." The ancient Volvo's air-conditioning doesn't work as well as it needs to. I accept the seat, and the glass of iced tea Thalia offers me.

"Mom, where do I put these?" I watch Thalia's face, having known that Eric occasionally calls her 'mom' but curious to know how she feels about it. She feels fine about it, evidently, because she calls back for him to put my stuff in the guest room. I lean forward to catch a glimpse of Eric and ask if he needs my help and he declines.

"I didn't want to assume anything about your sleeping arrangements, but I figure you're both adults, so it's up to you where you sleep, okay? I just wanted to give you your own space."

"Thank you, that's very considerate of you." More considerate than my parents, though I suppose it's a less of a big deal for his European, obviously more liberal, parent.

"I know better than to think giving you separate bedrooms would stop you anyways." Thalia winks at me, and I'm suddenly glad my parents aren't nearly as open because I would be mortified. Even now, I blush. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"Oh no, you didn't!" I assure her. "I guess I'm just not as forthcoming as Eric is."

"Few people are, dear." She smiles and pats my hand reassuringly.

"All done. Can I have food now?" Eric asks, coming up behind me and giving my shoulder a light squeeze. I tilt my head back to shoot him a grateful look.

"There's deli meat in the fridge." Thalia tells him with a hint of a smirk. Damn Northman smirk.

"Mom!"

"What do you say?"

"Please?"

"Of course, dear. Would you like a sandwich too, Sookie? Tide you over until dinner?"

"I'd love one, but I can get it myself."

"Oh, don't be silly. Sit." She waves me down and I obey, relaxing a little when Eric grabs the seat next to me and gives my thigh a brief squeeze.

The rest of the day is spent getting acquainted with Eric's aunt. She's lovely, if a little overwhelming, but Felicia shows up after our dinner of roast beef and garlic mashed potatoes, which takes the pressure of off me a little.

"Thank you," I whisper to her when Thalia leaves the room for Eric's childhood photo albums.

"I know how she can be," Flick winks and pats my knee. Eric bursts into the living room a moment later, hot on the heels of his aunt who happens to be carrying a shoebox.

"Gimme!" He reaches for the box over her shoulder, but Thalia whips around, hiding it behind her back.

"Don't you dare, Eric Northman." Flick, all for the photo viewing, snags the box and plops down next to me.

"Felicia! Whose side are you on?" Eric scowls when Thalia joins us on the couch. Flick looks around the room.

"Which side gets to see little naked baby Eric?"

"Ours." Thalia plays along.

"This side." Flick gestures as Eric's aunt hands me the first photo. And there, sitting on what appears to be the couch I'm sitting on right now, is a toddler version of my boyfriend, butt-naked.

"Awwwwwww! You were adorable!"

"Shuddup." He grumbles and climbs over the back of the couch to sit behind me, framing me with his body and resting his chin on my shoulder. There's many more photos, most of them featuring a fairly bald Felicia in addition to Eric who is, more often than not, in various states of undress.

"He cried the entire time," Thalia comments, showing me a photo of Eric in toddler jeans and a long-sleeved shirt at the park. "It was a constant struggle to get him to wear something."

"Very little has changed," he murmurs in my ear and I laugh at how true that is, but stop at the next photo his aunt offers me.

"Are these…?"

"My parents, on my second birthday. Gus and Annika Northman." There's a cake, with two candles on it, and a tiny Eric sitting in a young, blonde woman's lap. His dad, with the same chin and jawline as Eric, has his arm around his wife and they're smiling at the camera. "They died before I was three, so that was the last birthday they spent with me." It was a car accident, he has told me before. His dad fell asleep while driving them home from a weekend at a cabin outside of Stockholm, and veered into the opposing lane. Eric's arms tighten around my waist, and I twist my neck to get a better look at him. His eyes look sad, but he offers me a smile. We snap out of it at the sound of Thalia sniffling and discretely wiping away a tear. Flick gives Eric's knee a quick squeeze and we're on to the next photo, without another uttered word.

"Do you miss them?" I ask Eric later that night, once Felicia is gone and Thalia is asleep, and we are lying awake in the guest bed.

"I barely remember them. I don't know what it would have felt like to have them, what they would have been like as parents. Thalia has always been my parent, she took me in, she loved me like her own. I know this isn't what a lot of people would want, but I never felt like an orphan." He drapes my arm over his waist and does the same to me. I smile, moving closer. I love his outlook on things; it would be so easy to be bitter, to blame fate for the loss of his parents, and to not see how lucky he was to have Thalia.

"I love you, you know that, right?"

"Show me."

So I do.

The next two weeks go by in the blink of an eye. We go down to the lake often, mostly due to the fact that everytime we do manage to make it down there, Eric spends so much time shooting me heated looks in my bikini that I say fuck it to the sun and sand and drag him back to the house. Thank God Thalia works during the days. I spend a lot of time with Flick, who gave me permission to utilize her nickname a while ago, as our friendship grew stronger over the months.

But before I know it, it's Friday morning and Eric has to drive me back. I pout the entire drive home, holding his hand in my lap and looking out the window to keep from getting teary. I won't see him for weeks; we both have to work, and the drive is too long to be made regularly. We've made plans, for Eric to come stay with me for a week at the end of May, but that's almost a month from now. He seems to sense my mood, because he doesn't say much, choosing instead to let the music fill the silence.

Reaching Bon Temps at around one, my mother invites Eric in for a drink and for a decent meal, which he graciously accepts. My mother loves him, but insists that he leave sooner rather than later to avoid the dark, which leads me to believe she does not love me. My sulking leads her to give us an hour alone, however, and we spend the entirety of it humping like rabbits. At the end of the hour, we dress at the sound of the front door and I begrudgingly follow him downstairs. My mother wishes him a safe drive, and they say goodbye, me following Eric out the door.

"Stop pouting." He perches on the hood, planting his feet apart to let me step into his arms. "I'll miss you too, but pouting isn't going to help anything. I'll see you in a month."

"I've never had to do the long-distance thing, give me a break."

"It's not long distance, we were together for eight months, and in four months, we will be together again. And in the meantime, we'll Skype, and text, and even talk on the phone." He hates talking on the phone.

"You must love me a lot to talk to me on the phone." I smile a bit.

"I do," he tells me matter-of-factly. I love him to pieces.

"I won't be clingy when you're gone," I promise. "I'm not going to text you every morning and freak out when you take too long to respond. I'm just going to miss you a lot, and I'm promising you a lot of sex when you come back."

"How much sex?"

"Enough sex that you will need to double your calorie intake just to keep up." I can swear his eyes darken at my words, and he pulls me flush against him. He's hard again, and I desperately wish we could have a bit more time. "Kiss me." I expect his kiss to be passionate, but it's not. He starts with a light peck and then deepens the kiss, pouring a whole lot of affection into it. I make a small sound, wrapping my arms around his neck and smiling when his hands drop to my ass.

"I'll see you soon."

"Yeah." I tuck my head against his neck and breathe in his scent. Once satisfied, I pull back and smile at him. "Okay, you may leave."

"Thank you." He rolls his eyes and I stretch up to kiss his forehead.

"Love you. Drive safe. Call me when you get home, or text or something." I grin.

"Love you too, and will do."

I watch him drive away, my hands thrust deep into my pockets as the Volvo disappears from my sight.


	9. Interlude 2

A/N: This is super short, so chapter 8 will be up shortly.

* * *

_Interlude 2: _**July 2011**

I stumble into the kitchen still in my pajamas, completely unaware of Thalia until she wishes me a good morning and I practically fall over.

"Oh Jesus." I bring a hand to my chest and attempt to get my heartbeat under control while a very amused Thalia apologizes. "Good morning to you too, Thalia."

"You okay there?"

"Oh yeah. Didn't see you there."

As is the norm when I stay with the Northmans, Eric's aunt already has breakfast ready and serves me a plateful of waffles with the requisite mug of coffee. We share breakfast in a comfortable silence, though I have the sense there is something she wants to get off her chest. Eric should be back from his run soon, so I sip slowly at my coffee in a last-minute offer for Thalia to get on with it. When she finally speaks, it's not at all what I expected.

"Sookie, I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For bringing Eric back." She smiles wanly, and I'm even more confused than before. Eric was gone?

"Thalia, what are you talking about?"

"Before you, he was a bit of ghost. Even when he stopped the partying," she pauses, suddenly unsure of whether or not I know about this, but I do, so she continues. "He wasn't really here. Not that he would ever admit it, but I think he was very lonely, and I worried about him. I kept waiting for something horrible to happen when he went away, but then he met you and it's like you woke him right up. You brought my baby back, Sookie, and I wanted you to know I'm incredibly grateful."

I have to take a long moment to pull myself back together because her words have me practically in tears. Having managed that, I take even more time in an attempt at forming an appropriate response.

"Thalia, I… I didn't do anything. He's wonderful, and he was so sweet to me from the beginning, even though I wasn't very nice to him." I smile a little bit, remembering that. "If there's anybody who should be saying thanks, it's me. Because I don't know what I would have done without him in my life. I love him."

It's Thalia's turn to deal with watery eyes, especially since Eric bursts in at that moment, hot and sweaty from exercise.

"Morning, everybody." He peeks under the plate covering his breakfast and grins. "Is this for me?" Seeing that Thalia is still incapable of speaking, I respond for her and for the first time, Eric seems to pick up on the somber mood.

"Sookie, did you make my mom cry? I told you to be nice!" He grins and we laugh, grateful to him for having lightened the atmosphere. He bends down and kisses Thalia's cheek, who then wrinkles her nose and smacks his bicep while telling him to go get a shower.

"Yes ma'am." He straightens up and shoots me an inquisitive look, silently asking me if things are okay. I respond with a slight inclination of my head and let him kiss me good morning, even though he really does stink. We don't say anything else once Eric is gone, though Thalia kisses my hair the same way she does Eric's when she leaves for work. I sit at the breakfast table long after my plate has emptied and my coffee has cooled, thinking about just how much Eric downplayed how he had been pre-me. I'm not angry, or upset. I can't imagine it being easy, telling the person you love that you were a mess before them. It breaks my heart that he had been hurting, though I'm glad – and I'm sure he is too – that I went out with him because I wanted to and not out of pity. I spend so much time thinking about it and aching for him that when he comes back from his shower, I stand on the chair and give him the kind of kiss that usually ends in us naked.

"Did that have anything to do with whatever made Thalia cry?" He asks afterwards, his eyes still closed. I take a moment to thrill at the fact that when I stand on the chair, he is the one with his head tilted up.

"Maybe. I love you more than words."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"We were talking about how awesome you are." I smile. It's not really a lie.

"You don't have to tell me. Except that kiss made me want you."

"Well I don't know if you've noticed, but we're in a house all alone."

"You don't say."


	10. Chapter 8

A/N: Alright, so I said this would be up soon and then I started writing something that had no context which found its context mid-chapter, below. Also, this chapter was going to be about 22 pages and the next chapter was going to be 5, but now it's 10 pages and there's an extra chapter I had to add to the story.

I'd like to thank everybody who read and reviewed; you guys are wonderful. I hope you enjoy this, so do tell me about it.

* * *

_Chapter 8_

**August – September 2011**

**Sookie**

The next few months crawl by. I do my best to keep myself busy with work, and with my Bon Temps friends, but there are still days that never seem to end because I keep thinking about what Eric is up to, or how much longer it will be until the next time we see each other, which is about once a month for a long weekend or so. During my visit at the end of June, Eric apologizes for not being able to spend my birthday with me. It's my twentieth, and it sucks that he won't be there, but it's just too much time taken off of work. I try to not be too big of a bitch about it, which definitely works out in my favour when I open the kitchen door on the morning of July 1st to find him standing there with a bouquet of pink calla lilies. Without saying a word or inviting him in, I take the flowers, place them on the breakfast table, and proceed to jump into his arms.

"You're the best boyfriend ever!"

"Yup," he laughs. "Happy birthday, Baby."

He only stays for a couple of days, since he'll be back in three or so weeks anyways, and I find out that he had been planning this with my mom for weeks. That night, having opted to stay in, we all have dinner with Amelia and Tray, and later Eric finds the time to give me my birthday present. It turns out to be two orgasms, in addition to a gorgeous Swarovski necklace with a series of delicate little stars that progressively grow into the largest one hanging right between the curves of my breasts. I tell him I love it, and I love him, but not necessarily in that order.

The rest of the summer drags on even more, with August seeming to last forever, especially when we have to cancel our monthly visit because we need to buckle down and get the most out of our summer jobs before school starts. By the time September rolls around and my move-in date approaches, I'm practically buzzing with excitement. We have to check in alphabetically this year, so by the time I have to be at Mullins Hall, it will be later in the afternoon with Eric having moved in a few hours earlier. I pick up my keys and room number at a table labeled 'Sorenson-Stephenson', and head back outside to the car where my mom and I grab a couple of suitcases before letting my dad drive to the parking lot behind the building for a spot. Eric and I had requested the seventh floor this year, and he had texted me earlier to confirm it, so we'll once again be living together.

I'm beyond excited, and ignore my mother's amused smile as I tap my foot and watch the numbers climb on the elevator display.

G

1

2

I groan. This is taking forever. My mom laughs and tells me Eric isn't going anywhere.

3

4

5

Maybe not, but I haven't seen him in far too long. He seems to be just as anxious as me, since he texted me for the fifth time before I got onto the elevator, asking me if I'm on my way.

6

And, after a painfully long pause, the doors open on the seventh floor.

**Eric**

It's been fifteen minutes since Sookie texted me her room number, 743. We'll be in different wings this year, but it's okay. We'll be all over each other for a while, but after that our independent natures will kick in and we're going to be climbing the walls just to get a moment of privacy.

Right now though, I haven't seen her in like, five weeks. I'm sitting in the lounge, with a mix of new and old people, and I'm doing my best to pay attention to the conversations except I keep glancing over at the elevator.

"Sookie here yet?" Alcide asks me with a knowing grin. He put in a request for this floor this year, claiming its because he'll be able to seduce Sookie more easily. I don't even know why he still lives in res when his dad owns half of Montreal.

"Almost." I check my phone again. "Sorry, I'm kind of distracted."

"Deep breaths, man." He pats me on the shoulder and goes back to discussing GPA's and class pre-requisites with a really hot first-year. Dawn, I think her name is. Behind us, the elevator doors ding open and I crane my neck for the twentieth time in the past twenty minutes, hoping for Sookie but at this point, expecting somebody else.

And finally, _finally_, I get my wish. I jump to my feet, grinning as I stride over. Sookie, looking like a million bucks, rolls her suitcase out of the elevator, her face lighting up as she catches sight of me. Abandoning her stuff, she runs right at me, squealing as she jumps into my arms to wrap her legs around my waist.

"Hey there, Beautiful," I grin into her hair and she breathes back a response.

"I missed you _soooo_ much." I put her down for a kiss, and she wraps her arms tightly around me. God I missed her.

"Good thing your dad isn't here," Michelle observes and I break away from her daughter, not having even realized she is here, carrying a giant canvas bag and smiling at us.

"Hi Michelle," I smile charmingly, and go over to take the bag and kiss her cheek hello.

"Hello dear."

"How was the drive?" I ask as we head towards Sookie's wing. I hold the door open for the two of them, and Michelle tells me it was good until they reached the Vancouver traffic. That's to be expected, and I tell her so with a smile. Sookie's room is actually a single this year, and I suppress my laughter as I tell her that I have a double room to myself, the complete opposite of last year. She opens her mouth to say something, probably about spending nights with me, but stops herself and I catch Michelle hiding a smirk.

I help Sookie move in, which takes less than two hours, and then her parents insist I join them for an early dinner. Corbett has warmed up to me in the past year of me dating her daughter, so it's a really good dinner. I'm even willing to forgive the Stackhouses this extension of my celibacy I have to endure. I want her so badly, I need to keep visualizing the Queen of England pole-dancing naked to keep my erection from becoming obvious. The last thing I need is for my girlfriend's parents to catch me with a hard-on. They drop us off a couple of hours later, wishing us both a good year, and we say goodbye. Sookie grins at me the moment their car disappears from our view and, clasping my hand, leads me to the elevator and up to my room where I've already fully unpacked and pushed the two beds together. I shut the door behind us, locking it, and turn around to find Sookie already stripping. Apparently we're both too horny to give a shit about romance.

"Alright. We're going to christen your bed, then both desks, and if I'm still horny, I will brave carpet burn for you."

"You're perfect," I grin and, seeing she's left in only her black lacy underwear, toss her playfully onto the bed. Stripping myself, I crawl on top and, after a bit of foreplay, bury myself inside of her. After five weeks, my stamina is pretty shitty but I make sure she gets hers afterwards, using my mouth on her body.

We do christen both desks, but opt for the wall instead of the floor, and finish off with my head buried between her thighs. I'm feeling a little cocky afterwards, for having made her come so many times, my name on her lips every single time. Curling into my body, she presses a kiss into my chest and I tighten my arms around her.

"I'm glad to be back," I murmur into her hair, entirely ready to fall asleep right now.

"Me too. Excited for your second year?"

"Very. Excited for your third?"

"Incredibly. I have six psych courses this year."

"And a boyfriend to start the year off with." I smile, remembering her sharing that little tidbit with me last year, about her insecurity regarding starting the school year single.

"And you have a girlfriend. So no first-years for you."

"Why would I want a first-year when I've got a third-year?"

"Like your women older, do ya?"

"I do. Loads of experience."

She laughs hysterically, probably at the inaccuracy of that statement, and I smile at her. It had blown my mind at first, the fact that before me she had only had sex once. I hadn't even suspected it, figuring that she had simply been too modest to let me go down on her in the beginning, even though she had had no qualms against going down on me. I thought she was just not ready, with our relationship being far too new after her year-long relationship with Quinn, so I hadn't read too much into it.

Now though, after a year of 'us', she's phenomenal in bed. Not that she hadn't been fantastic from the beginning, but now she's confident, perfectly comfortable to take control every now and then and tell me what she wants.

Now, she tells me she wants my arms around her and I chuckle, humouring her as we drift off.

888

Despite my excitement, something changes, with the start of the new year. It's like whatever had made us get along faded over the summer, after four months of disuse wherein we spent all our time relaxing and having sex whenever we saw each other, which was very rarely. I make dinner reservations one Friday night, knowing that Sookie is free, but she reams me out for an hour over not consulting her. She has an essay due, she tells me, and when I say she can just write it another time, she tells me to get the hell out so she can get some work done. The next day I have a ten-hour shift at the diner I work at, and forget my phone at home, a mistake I don't understand the enormity of until I get back at six and Sookie gives me the cold shoulder for having worried her.

"What do you want me to do, you _know_ I have work on Saturdays."

"You told me you had today off."

"No, I did not!" I throw my hands up out of frustration. "Next week, I told you I have next week off."

"Well I'm sorry for worrying when you don't pick up the phone all day," she snaps cuttingly and I clench my jaw.

"Why are you being like this?"

"I'm not being anything! I don't get why it's so hard for you to understand me worrying about you when I thought you were going to be around all day."

"I get worrying, I don't understand why you're angry."

She stares at me for a moment, nostrils flaring, and grabs her keys off my bed. "You know what, it doesn't even matter. I have to study."

"Sookie!" I yell after her but she ignores me and keeps walking, and I plop down on my bed, shaking with frustration at her attitude.

The following Thursday night we go out to Vinyl, Sookie wearing this fucking sexy dress that hugs her ass and heels that make me wonder if I can eat her out kneeling in front of her. We're okay, or I think we're okay, until a brunette with a skeleton tattoo on her bicep hits on me and I turn her down, only to turn around and find Sookie glaring at me.

"What?" I try to say over the thumping bass line of yet another generic pop hit. Shaking her head, I imagine she makes a scoffing sound and walks away from me. Frustrated, I grab her wrist and drag her outside into a side alley, ignoring her struggles.

"What do you want from me?" She wrenches her wrist out of my grasp.

"What do _I _want?" I raise my voice. "What the hell do _you_ want?"

"What are you talking about, Eric?"

"What the fuck happened in there?"

"Oh god," she rolls her eyes and walks away, a little bit, before walking about. "You have got to be joking me. If you wanted to buy her a drink, you should have just done it, Eric. You didn't need to give her that half-assed rejection."

"What, me turning her down and walking away wasn't enough for you? What did you want me to do, shove her away and make a big deal about it? It's a club, Sookie. You get hit on all the time and you don't see me losing my shit over it."

She laughs, "No, I don't get _hit on_, Eric, because I'm always with Amelia or Tara or with you. I don't lean against the bar and check out the women that walk by."

"So you think I like getting hit on by women because I want to turn them down?"

"I think you like the attention." I have to do a double-take of the look in her eyes, because she really means that. If I wasn't fucking insulted, I'd be hurt.

"And I think you're crazy."

"Ain't that sweet of you."

"If I wanted to be flirted with, I wouldn't go out with my girlfriend, Sookie."

"Well all you had to do was say so. I wouldn't want to cramp your style."

"Jesus, are you even listening to me." I run a hand through my hair. She can't be serious. She just can't be.

"Urgh, fuck you Eric." Spinning on her heel, she begins to walk away, her stilettos clacking against the asphalt.

"Where are you going?"

"_Home_. Enjoy your night."

I stand, shocked, as she runs inside and emerges a moment later with her coat, hails and cab and drives away. It's nearly an hour later by the time I've tracked Alcide down and told him I'm going home, and I knock in vain at her door.

"Sook, come on, I know you're in there." There's no response, and the anger from earlier flares up again. "You know what, Sookie, when you're ready to get over yourself, you know where to find me."

888

"I think we need to take a break."

I bury my head in my hands and try to figure out how mere words can hurt this fucking much, when I know she's right.

This isn't working. It hasn't been working for a month. We're always arguing, over why I said this and why she did that. Stupid fucking shit, that ended up making us unhappy. She thinks I'm controlling, high-handed. Typical macho bullshit, she'd said.

And I think she's stubborn, mule-headed. Intent on doing everything her own way because she thinks me offering her help is tantamount to my distrust of her abilities. And I think she doesn't trust me.

"I can't do this anymore," her voice breaks on the last word and she crumples into herself, mirroring me by hiding her face in her hands. I love her, it runs through my veins just how much I do, but love isn't enough. On that we agree, even if we don't agree on anything else right now. _You could worship the ground someone walks on and still be the worst person for them_, she had told me once. I knew what that was like; my love for Pam hadn't been enough, and apparently my love for Sookie isn't enough either.

And we may be breaking up, but I still can't bear the sight of her weeping, even if she is weeping _because _we're breaking up. I pull her into my lap and hold her as she stains my shirt, and only hesitate a second when she kisses my neck and looks at me inquisitively. It's hot, and fucking familiar, and I hate that I keep thinking about how this is the last time. When I come, I hide my face in her neck and have a trivial thought, that I will have to go back to using condoms with girls.

"Baby," I murmur.

"You can't call me that anymore," she whispers, and bursts out crying, which is probably the worst thing considering I'm still inside of her. I pull out and pull her into my arms, but she rests her hands on my chest and pushes me away, firm yet gentle.

"You can't comfort me over us breaking up," Sookie tells me, and smiles softly. I guess I can't; I'm her ex now. Ex-boyfriend. I never wanted to be her ex anything. I never wanted to be the past, I wanted to be the present and the future, because she was everything for me.

"I guess I should put my clothes back on, huh?" I try for some levity.

"Unless you want to walk back to your room naked."

Once dressed, I pause at the door, not knowing what to do, even though it may appear pretty straightforward. Putting a great deal of effort into hiding her body, Sookie gets dressed as well and stands in front of me.

"I feel like I should be thanking you," I chuckle insufficiently.

"For what?"

"For… everything?" For the past eleven months. We almost made it to the year. Looking down at her feet, she nods before stepping forward to reach up on her tippy-toes and kiss my cheek.

"I love you," Sookie whispers.

"I love you too. You know that." I keep myself from kissing her, but hesitate with my hand on the knob. "I need to know… is there a chance? For us to…" I gulp, and avoid her gaze, terrified of her response. "Is there a chance?"

"I hope so." When I look back up, she's smiling hopefully, though it's fleeting. "What am I supposed to do without you?"

"Not get into a fight over everything?" I smile what I imagine is the least convincing smile.

"Hey, um, I know breaking up means I don't get to tell you what to do anymore, but um, can you not-" She stops, exhaling forcefully, and then continues with tears in her eyes. "Can you please not have sex with anybody else?"

"Forever? 'Cause I don't know how long I can keep that up." I grin, but let it fade away. "I won't want to, Sookie. I won't." When she nods, relieved, I add, "Will you?"

"I won't want to."

This time my smile is genuine, and I tell her to take care before turning around and walking away.

**Sookie**

I don't see Eric for weeks after that. We were so in tune with the other's schedule and habits before the breakup that now it's really very easy to avoid each other. I cry every night, missing him, and trying to figure out if there's any chance, any chance at all, that we can be together again.

The first day without Eric I open my door, to head to class, and almost bump into Amelia.

"Hello," I greet my best friend slowly. She doesn't even have class this early in the morning; the majority of her classes are once-a-week, three-hour night lectures. Plus she doesn't even live on campus anymore; her and Tray moved into an apartment of their own mid-August. "What are you doing here?"

"I got you coffee," she grins, holding out the venti cup that she must have gotten from the closest Starbucks, which is still three blocks out of her way.

"Do you even have class?"

"I have an appointment with an advisor in an hour," she smiles as I accept the coffee with a 'thank you'. "I really need to drop that Calc course, it's kicking my ass," she continues as we begin heading out. I can't help glancing over towards Eric's wing, feeling a mix of hope and apprehension at the thought of seeing him.

"Don't you need it though?" I pull myself back into the conversation, despite my complete and utter lack of interest, and jab the Down button. The elevator dings open almost instantly.

"Well, I can take linear algebra, or stats." Amelia presses G. "I just need to see if I can take it over the summer or something. But there's a bunch of bullshit details with Pharmacy, so I need to figure those out."

"Oh, okay." There's a moment of silence, and she shoots me a sidelong glance.

"So how are you doing?"

"I'm good." I grin at her. "That was good, huh? Convincing."

She grins back. "Yeah, and for half a second I believed you."

"Yeah. Who am I kidding." I tug my coat tighter around me, grateful for the warm drink in my hands. I don't like how much colder it is in the mornings, and darker. It's so much more depressing. "It's been what, sixteen hours?" I'm still supposed to be under my covers, listening to John Mayer and crying my eyes out. "Hey, you'd take care of me if I was in my pajamas drinking my pain away, right? 'Cause Tara found out we broke up and ran out and bought me a two-six of Patron."

Amelia snorts. "Why do you think I spiked your mocha with vanilla vodka?"

Frowning, I sniff at the drink and try to discern the taste of alcohol in my mouth. "Oh, okay. Thanks, best friend."

"You're welcome, best friend." I smile as we step onto the main campus, and take another long drink. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Like nothing is ever going to be okay again." I'm only half-joking. This morning was the first school day, in the past year, where I woke up without the feeling of Eric's lips pressing against my face. Even at our worst, with the fighting, he never gave up that routine. "We fought so much, over every little thing, but none of it ever sucked as much as this." I look up at the leaves that are turning orange, and take a deep breath of fresh air. I love this campus at fall, it's so beautiful, with its colonial architecture and quaint narrow pathways. Arriving at a particular alleyway, I turn away and try to not remember Eric's body pressing me into that wall last spring, as we kissed.

"You know I'm here for you, right?" Amelia asks as we stop by the mathematics building, where my first class is.

"I know." I wrap my arms around her, and she holds me for a moment before releasing me to walk away.

"Lunch?"

"Yeah, I'll text you." Waving goodbye, I head inside and jog up the two flights of stairs to my classroom, plunking down in the first available aisle seat I can find. Halfway through writing down the definition of a homogeneous system of linear equations, I feel my Blackberry vibrate in my pocket. I'm not really too devoted to the task of note-taking in the first-year math course I've been putting off, so I tug it out of my pocket and frown, seeing I have a text from Alcide. We text, Eric's friend and I, but more often than not it's Eric-centric so I'm not really looking forward to what he has to say, even though we've sort of become friends too.

_You broke up?_

_Uh, yeah._

I don't really have a more eloquent response, though I'm not at all surprised that it took Eric almost a whole day before telling one of his two best friends about us. Or lack of an 'us'.

_What the hell happened?_

Frowning, I take my sweet time responding, choosing to wait until I'm settled in my Psych 388 course.

_Well, you just cut to the chase, don't you?_

_I'm sorry, Cupcake :S I was just surprised. He looks like shit._

_I'm sure I do too. We'd been fighting a lot._

Over everything. All the time. It hurts me to hear that he looks unhappy though. Not that I had expected he would bounce right back and be fine, but the part of me that loves him wants him to be okay even if it means getting over me.

_Are you okay?_

Fucking Alcide. Even long-distance, his concern for me fills my eyes with tears. I hold it back, sniffling discretely in the lecture hall.

_You're sweet to ask, but I think Eric got you in the separation :)_

_Doesn't mean I can't be your friend too, Cupcake._

_I know, and I love you for it, but I'd hate it if Amelia was there for him instead of me, you know? Thank you for your concern, but I'm okay._

There is a long delay, but eventually he texts back saying he understands, and that he's there for me if I need it.I hadn't thought about it before, but for the first time I consider the losses I'll have to endure if this breakup becomes permanent. I won't get to see Thalia again, when I'd grown rather fond of her during the time I'd spent at her house. And Flick and I have become good friends; she is planning on moving to Vancouver for the winter semester at the Vancouver Art School and now we won't be able to remain friends. There may be some sort of cosmic connection between us, however, because the next time my phone vibrates it's from a text from Felicia.

_How are you holding up?_

_Are you allowed to be texting me?_

_Eric may be my best friend, but he doesn't get to dictate what I do._

I sigh. This is too hard. Amelia, _my_ best friend, had taken the best approach with her quiet presence and spiked mocha. Alcide and Felicia's concern, despite being through the phone and therefore rather passive, is overwhelming right now when I'm so raw, when I can swear the pain is physical.

_I'm fine, Flick. Really._

_I'm leaving in a couple of hours, I should be there tonight._

Oh God. Oh no. I don't want to see her. Flick's caring is the definition of too much; she'll run and gather me in an all-encompassing hug, and I'll be drowning in the tears before I have a chance to pull myself together.

_To see Eric?_

_To see both of you._

I groan and gather my stuff, not caring that the lecture isn't over yet. I send a quick text telling Amelia I'm done if she is, and proceed to spend the next twenty minutes trying to somehow make Felicia understand that Eric needs her more, that I'm okay, that I really, _really_ think there should be less of a focus on our friendship in the light of recent events. She seems a little offended, but I sigh in relief when she says she understands, and I look up to see my best friend joining me at the cafeteria table with her own tray of food.

"I am starving. That was the freaking longest appointment I have ever had with an advisor." My expression may be more telling than I thought, because she knows instantly something is wrong. "What's going on?" I tell her about my two conversations with Eric's two best friends, and do my best not to dissolve into tears from my very emotionally-laden morning.

"I just wish people cared less, you know?" I blurt out before realizing how that sounds. "Not that- I mean, you're my best friend and I need you, so I'm grateful. But Alcide and Flick texting me when in my head I keep thinking about how they should be there for Eric instead? I don't even know what to say to them." I look down at my salad. "You know, I think it's time for the pajamas-and-Patron thing."

"Well good, 'cause I really didn't feel like going to Chem today." She grins and doesn't touch me until we're in my room and I'm in pajamas, knowing that any amount of affection will surely burst the dam. In the safety of my room, my best friend wraps her arms around me as I break, shaking with tears in her embrace, the tequila forgotten.

888

"Mom, I'm _fine_," I insist for the eighteenth time, on the sixth day.

"Are you _sure_, honey? I know you loved him, you don't have to hide that from me. You won't even tell me why you broke up!"

"Mommy, I miss him, and I still love him, but please stop worrying about me. I'll explain everything to you when I see you, but for now, trust me when I say I know what I'm doing."

There's a pause and I hear my mother hissing something at my dad before sighing into the phone. "Your dad wants to know if Eric cheated on you."

"_What_, no!" I'm shocked, though I shouldn't be, that my father would jump to such a conclusion when a month ago he'd reluctantly admitted that Eric seemed to be good to me. "He wouldn't do that. We just fought a lot. He didn't break my heart, we were just unhappy together so we put an end to it." At my desk, I rest my face in my hand and try to keep the weariness from creeping into my voice, because it's just so exhausting to keep repeating that I'm fine, yes I am, no really I'm okay. Especially when it's all lies and the only person who can make me okay is on the other end of this floor.

888

The problem, I decide on the eleventh day, is that he was high-handed, all the time. He made reservations for dinner without asking, and didn't tell me when Sam would come by, and a million other things that pissed me off.

And I can't help feeling like we can work through it, if we just sat down and talked. I could be less stubborn, and more trusting, and I could just have him back.

I could have Eric back in my bed, back in my arms. I could have my hand in his, and his lips on mine.

It's ten o'clock at night, three weeks after we break up, that I pad to Eric's room with no makeup on, in my rattiest Bon Temps Football t-shirt and stop before reaching the door.

Because there, sneaking out of Eric's room wearing very little and obviously no bra, is a girl who looks a lot like me.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Have you ever broken up and gotten back together with a boyfriend/girlfriend? Did it last, or was it just the beginning of a downward spiral?_

_Do you think it's worth it to get back together with an ex? _

_I'd love to hear you guys' responses!_

_Also, I'm writing another story: how do you guys feel about Author!Sookie and Detective!Eric?_


	11. Chapter 9

A/N: So charhamblin was a gem and brought to my attention the fact that for some people, being on a "break" does not mean "broken up", which of course led to the visual of Ross from _Friends_ yelling "We were _on_ a _break"_. I'm on his side on this; Eric and Sookie were broken up, and they both understood that. I hope it didn't cause too much confusion!

Having said that, I'd like to apologize for the big gap between chapters; I rewrote a bunch of things, and it was just really time-consuming. Thanks, for all your long and wonderful reviews of the last chapter. Keep them coming; I love hearing what you think.

* * *

_Chapter 9_

**Sookie**

There's a split second where I want to puke, right on the floor. The girl regards me curiously but then heads away down the hall, stumbling a little bit over nothing at all. I consider walking away too, not caring where the hell she could possibly be going since the only exit is behind me and she's clearly drunk, but then Eric bursts out of his room and stops her.

"Your other left, Katie. The girls' bathroom is the other way." He turns her around, and when she docilely begins to head my way is the moment he catches sight of me. Katie ignores us, brushing past me into the bathroom, and then Eric and I are left to keep staring at each other.

"You said you wouldn't sleep with anybody," I squeak out. How could he have slept with her when I've been spending every waking moment thinking about him. Him, and that flimsy hoodie thing he wears at night. Him and his gorgeous blue eyes and soft blonde hair and the familiar lines of his body.

I can't fathom ever getting over him.

"I didn't," he responds with wide eyes.

"She's not wearing pants, Eric. And I'm pretty sure that was your shirt."

"We went out." He shakes his head. "A bunch of us, from my Econ class. She's my friend, and she couldn't drive home all the way to Surrey."

"Why the hell would she live in Surrey, how long of a commute is that?"

"A long one." He shrugs.

"So she's sleeping over."

"Yes."

"Without pants, or a bra."

A beat, then, "Yes."

"Wearing your shirt."

"Sookie." He sighs, rubbing at his eyes, and I turn to watch Katie stumble back out of the bathroom.

"Did you flush?" I ask and she frowns to herself, disappearing back inside. There's the sound of the toilet flushing and when she comes out, Eric asks her if she washed her hands, the answer to which is also a no. Turning back to Eric, I sigh, disappointed and a little bit second-guessing myself.

"Okay," I tell him, and turn away.

"Wait," he calls out. "Why did you come here?"

Before I can respond, Katie appears once again and stumbles into his arms. I tense, watching her arms wrap around his waist and hearing her thank him in a cutesy drunk voice. Clearly uncomfortable, Eric shoots me a look and sweeps her up into his arms, carrying her inside. I walk closer to peek inside the room, pleased to see he has separated the two beds and that Katie is now curled up on one, already half asleep. He shoots me a look that I can only describe as challenging me, wordlessly waiting for my reaction towards the situation.

"I know I shouldn't care," I tell Eric quietly. "It's your business whether you want to let drunk half-naked girls sleep in your spare bed. I'm not allowed to be jealous."

"I _want_ you to care. I don't mean to make you jealous, but if you are, it means good things for me. But I didn't do anything wrong." He looks inside at his friend. "I wouldn't have let her take so many liberties with her clothes if I hadn't been single, but…" He shoots me a bit of a guilty look.

"But you are single." I nod. "I get it."

"I don't want to be single."

"Oh." I can't help glancing over at the sleeping girl. She's pretty, prettier than me, with big enough breasts to interest Eric, so I guess she's hot. I can see why Eric wouldn't want to be single with her around, even if his words break my heart. I suddenly wish I'd had the foresight to put on makeup, and maybe my skinny jeans, and a low-cut shirt.

Following my gaze, Eric's eyes widen and he blurts out, "Oh no. Not her, Sook." He shakes his head with an incredulous laugh. "I meant you. She," he gestures at Katie, "is a bit crazy."

With that burst of confidence, I say, "I um, I came here to talk to you. About us."

The grin that lights up his face is breathtaking. It's the one that used to make my heart flutter, and still does. "Really? Will you give me a second, and then we can go to your room or something?"

I consider that for a second and nod 'yes', and he puts a trashcan next to Katie, along with a bottle of water retrieved from his mini-fridge, before closing the door behind him.

"Stop grinning," I tell him.

"I can't help it." Following me to my room, he sits on my bed and waits for me to lock the door. I sit next to him, and then toss out the tiny bit of self-restraint I had been employing in favour of wrapping my arms around his neck to press my mouth to his.

"Hi," he murmurs.

"Hi. I missed you."

"You too."

I've missed his lips oh so much, and his arms around my waist, and the smell of his soap. "Fuck me."

"Sookie, I don't know-"

"_Fuck_ me, Eric. Please?"

"Baby, I don't think we should."

I exhale and pull back, pouting at him. "You don't want me?" I feel so tired all of a sudden, and heartbroken. Even if the Katie thing wasn't what I thought it was, the past few weeks have really taken their toll on me.

"I always want you, Sookie." He pushes my hair back for no other reason than he seems to want to. "I just don't think it's smart for us to jump back into bed when we're still exactly where we were when we broke up."

Fine. He wants to talk, let's talk. "I hate it when you're high-handed. It makes me feel like shit, that you think you can make decisions without my involvement, and it makes me feel like you don't trust me."

Eric looks surprised for all of a second, and then nods. "It makes me feel like you don't trust me either."

"Then let's talk about it. Not just now, but more often. I don't care if you tell me I'm being a stubborn, pig-headed bitch before we make a decision together, but after the fact, you just sound like a dick."

"Well it pisses me off that you're always looking for proof that I don't trust you, that I don't think you're capable. It's insulting, that you take me making dinner reservations and equate it to me thinking you're incapable of making decisions. Because they're not of the same caliber, at all, and it's fucking hurtful. You overreacted, Sookie. You could have told me off, but instead you blew up and walked away, with the dinner thing and at Vinyl."

"You think it's all my fault? Who died and made you blameless? What about the Sam thing?"

"What about the Sam thing?"

"He came over twice, and you didn't bother to tell me."

"Because I forgot."

"Because you don't like him. You never have."

"It has nothing to do with how I feel about him; it was a minor thing that I forgot to tell you about."

"Twice."

Eric's eyes flash in anger. "I just forgot."

"No. You were jealous. Even though he's just a friend and we'd been together for a year, you were jealous enough, and juvenile enough, to keep his visit from me." I'd been perplexed when I'd run into Sam at the library and he's mentioned dropping by. He'd told Eric, Sam had said, to let me know that he had come by. He lived three floors down from us, so it wasn't too much of a stretch for him to come say 'Hi' and for us to go for coffee; we'd done it pretty regularly, after he had gotten over the idea of me dating somebody else. When I had confronted Eric, he had shrugged it off, and I had let him.

His eyes harden, and he responds after a very long pause. "I didn't say I was blameless. I let you walk away, and I let you push me away too."

"I didn't push you away."

"Yes you did." He speaks quietly, and I'm surprised to not find stubbornness, but hurt in his eyes. "And I let you. Every time, because I was frustrated, or tired. Or because I thought it would give you time to calm down so we would talk. But we never did, and I didn't push you."

"Alright, what do you want to talk about? The floor is yours."

"The Vinyl thing and the dinner thing," he replies instantly. Those were our two biggest fights, in of a sea of smaller arguments.

Vinyl-gate and Dinner-gate.

"Do I get to go first?"

"Sure."

"The dinner thing, beyond just annoying me, made me feel like you were taking me for granted." Eric's jaw twitches like he wants to speak, but he holds it back and gestures for me to continue. "You made plans without consulting me, which in itself isn't a big deal, but it made it sound like you didn't think I'd have anything better to do, or anyone else to spend time with. It was incredibly presumptuous of you, because even though I love spending time with you, I enjoy it because there are times when I _don't_ spend time with you, and you assumed I would welcome it just because of who you are to me." I hesitate and mumble, "Who you _were_ to me."

"I didn't think of it that way," he admits, appearing a bit subdued.

"I know you didn't. In hindsight, I am sure you didn't make dinner reservations for any complex reasons beyond you anticipating hunger on Friday around dinnertime." I smile a bit. "But that's what it felt like to me. I'm sorry I overreacted. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, and I'm sorry that I insulted you. I didn't think about it from your angle, and if I pushed you away it was because I thought-… I don't know what I thought. But I am sorry for doing it."

His expression softens a little. "Thank you. I'm sorry I made you feel like I was taking you for granted. I wasn't. Like you said, I didn't really think about how it sounded like to you."

"Apology accepted. On to Vinyl-gate?"

Eric smiles. "That's a good name for it. Yeah."

I had been so insecure that night; I had wanted to impress him in a new dress and it had seemed to work, but my pleasure at the fire in his eyes when he looked at me had been cancelled out by his half-assed rejection of that girl. She hadn't even been his type, I'd known that, but I had needed reassurance that at the height of our fighting, I was still what he wanted.

"I guess I just… I needed attention from you, and some other girl was getting it, and I just snapped."

"My interaction with her took up like thirty seconds."

"But before that, you were talking to Alcide and before that I was in the bathroom and before that you gave me like, one look and then went to get drinks."

He chuckles, "Wow, you really remember everything."

I shrug, feeling a blush. "It just really got to me. I'd bought a new dress and I'd hoped for more of a reaction. I know I overreacted. Again. Once again, I'm sorry." That appears to be the theme of tonight.

"This is possibly overdue," he murmurs, squeezing my hand, "but that night, in that dress and those heels you were wearing, I was trying to figure out if I could go down on you with you standing up."

"Oh." That used to always be a bit of an issue with us; he's just so damn tall. "I'm sorry you didn't feel like a priority in my life. Because you were. You still are. I thought we were okay that night, until I turned around and you were standing there glaring at me. It was just really frustrating." He pauses. "I'm sorry if I hurt your arm when I dragged you outside.

Shrugging that off, I say, "I get it. Thinking back on it, I think I felt like we were getting really close to our breaking point, with all the tension and the arguments. I was already wound up pretty tightly, and the smallest thing just set me off because I wasn't ready to consider the idea of losing you, and it seemed like I would have to if things continued progressing the way they were."

"And I thought we were okay. I felt like we were okay, because I took us not having had an argument in a few days to mean things were getting better I guess I shrugged off the tension from everything else, and didn't really think about whether we were on the same page or not."

We must be pretty much all talked out, we both stop and stare at each other for a long moment, before finally exhaling.

"Can we work on it?" Eric asks.

"I think so." Pausing, I add, "I mean, I'd like to. We just need to talk more, I guess."

Eric takes a deep breath. "I've had to remind myself every morning to not come over. And fucking Katie kept hitting on me and-"

"She hit on you?" I feel like I've been punched in the gut. God, I'm not supposed to care this much.

"I wanted her to," he admits quietly.

"Were you going to sleep with her?" I ask, careful to keep my voice from wavering.

He gives me a long look, like he's unsure of whether to tell me the truth or what he thinks I want to hear. Which of course is that he doesn't want anybody other than me, but realistically, I know better. "I was going to, before she got hammered. I'd decided against it by the time she asked to stay over."

"Oh." I rub my face. Even though he said he wouldn't sleep with anyone, he didn't owe me anything anymore. I understood that, even though I would have been shattered if I'd caught a post-coital Katie walking out of his room. Or a pre-coital Katie, for that matter. Any combination of Katie and Eric in the same sentence with 'coitus' would have been terrible.

His hand reaches for mine again and I watch his thumb brush over the back, smiling when he brings it to his mouth. "I want you back, Sookie. I never wanted you gone, but I want you back."

"This was bullshit. We could have had this talk three weeks ago and saved ourselves all this misery."

"I guess we were both just too angry to have a rational conversation. Come here." He pulls me into his lap and I wrap my legs around his waist. "I've missed you so much. You look so beautiful right now."

I smile into his cheek. "In my ratty pajamas and no makeup?"

"You know how I feel about you with no makeup." I pull back and he smiles at me, warm and familiar, and pushes my hair back again. Leaning into his touch, I kiss the palm of his hand and he leans forward to capture my lips with his. I moan, the instant our lips touch, and fall into him. Greedily, my hands slip under his shirt to scrabble at his hot skin and elicit all those wonderful sounds I'd been missing.

"Baby," I whisper and he pulls my shirt off, and I follow his lead. Soon we're naked, and I move to pull him on top but he stops me.

"No, come here." He directs me into the same position we had been in, with me in is lap, and I guide him inside of my body. We make love hurriedly, needing to make that connection that we had been neglecting for weeks, and I come with his name on my lips. Afterwards he tucks his face against my neck and makes a sound like he's fighting back tears, and in that moment, I am acutely aware of just how much he loves and needs me too. I feel like a little bit of a dick, for suggesting we break up, knowing what it had been like for him pre-me. Even though I had been desperately lonely without him, I had never been anywhere near where he had been.

"I love you so much. I don't want you to be my ex-anything. It broke my heart. I had to tell my mom we broke up."

"You told your mother? Oh God, they must hate me. And your dad was just starting to like me."

"They don't hate you, my mom keeps asking how you're doing. And I told my dad it wasn't because anything you did." I'm relieved though, to have made him think about something else. I hate it when he's upset, maybe about as much as he hates it when I'm upset.

"Did you tell Thalia?"

"No. She would have panicked, and I was panicking enough internally."

"You were panicking?"

"About you not wanting to ever get back together." There's a beat, and he adds, "Sookie, the thing at Vinyl…"

"Yeah?"

"You're the only one I want. You have to know that."

I grin and lay down, tapping my sternum so he follows me, resting his head where I want it on my chest. "And I love spending time with you." I thread my fingers through his hair and he sighs in contentment, turning briefly to press a kiss into the swell of one breast. "So, are we back together then?"

There's a long moment of silence before he speaks, "I think if I say 'yes', it would be considered being high-handed and therefore grounds for us to break up again." Lifting his head, our eyes meet and we burst out laughing.

**Eric**

It's going to take a lot of hard work, I can tell already.

When Sookie had asked me about wanting to fuck Katie, I'd briefly considered saying no, not at all, I love you. Because I do. It would have been untrue and unrealistic though, and I'd been curious about Sookie would react to me openly admitting I wanted someone else. Even though we weren't together. _Especially_ because we weren't together.

Katie was hot, and all over me for the entirety of that night, before she got drunk. I was a teenage boy who used to get laid regularly, then very often for about three days once a month for four months, and then barely for all of September which was of course followed by three weeks of not at all.

So yeah. I was horny, and lonely too, I'll admit that. Katie with her tits spilling out of her top and her bright red lipstick could do it for me, I'd decided the second time she ground her ass against my cock at the club. But by the time we got to my room and she could barely stand up straight, I'd decided not to. Casual sex I could do; casual sex when the other party has practically no inhibitions is far too close to sexual assault to my liking, and I hadn't been that desperate. I'd gotten laid anyways, which sort of paled in comparison to the significance getting Sookie back had for me.

I'm still a bit uneasy, and I think Sookie is too. Things had snowballed too quickly, from an argument to deciding we were done, and I think both of us had been surprised with how easily we gave up. And maybe a bit hurt too, at how easily the other gave up. I think we're both curious to see the depth of the damage we'd each caused with our anger and stubbornness, and a bit apprehensive to see if we can fix things.

I hope to god we can, because what my cock wants aside, I was miserable without her. Alcide had noticed; he'd become a good friend since the bus accident in March, and knew about the dynamic of my relationship with Sookie. Despite his constant ribbings about how hot Sookie was and how if I wasn't careful, he'd steal her from me, it had taken him all of a minute to pick up on how well I _wasn't_ doing and to suggest a workout, to get my mind off of things even though he hadn't actually said that. When Flick had shown up, less accepting of my don't ask, I won't tell policy, I had done my best to convince that I was fine, but it was sort of a moot point considering how well she knows me.

"You're not fine," she'd insisted as I folded a load of laundry.

"Flick, I love you, but I don't think you'll survive a fall from the seventh floor."

"There are rules against throwing things out the window," she'd told me deadpan. "You'd get evicted."

"It'd be worth it."

"Shut up. Stop lying to me."

"Alright." I'd dropped the t-shirt I'd been folding and scooped her up from her seat on my desk to set her down on the mattress. Kneeling in front of her, I'd captured my best friend's face in my hands. "Listen up, Flick. I love her. I want her back. I don't know when, but soon, because being without her sucks. It sucked not seeing her over the summer, but at least she was mine. And now she's not. So yeah, I'm upset. I'm beyond upset, and I'm not doing too well, but I'm not going to revert back to two years ago, because it would be counterproductive to me getting her back. So no, I'm not going to fall apart. You can relax now."

Staring at me for a second, she had nodded and, when I leaned forward to hide my face in her abdomen, my best friend wrapped her arms around me.

Now though, after the really good talk Sookie and I had on Thursday, I want to believe we'll be okay. I could see why she'd reacted the way she had, when we'd fought. I didn't agree with it, but I got why. It had been a bit surreal to turn around and find her standing in the hallway, looking like she was going to cry, and it had taken me a second to get my heartbeat going and to remember that, oh yeah, Katie was standing there, very obviously not wearing a bra and clearly drunk out of her wits. It meant a lot though, that she had taken that first step, and I immediately felt terrible for having wanted to fuck Katie when I wasn't over Sookie, and she clearly wasn't over me. When she'd jumped me in her room, the last thing I wanted to do was stop, but it felt a bit douchy to sleep with Sookie when a couple of hours ago I thought I'd be sleeping with Katie, even if what I had with Sookie far surpassed anything I would ever have with Katie. It felt good to talk things out though. We'd really needed to, and maybe it was good that we'd had three weeks to cool down, otherwise we wouldn't have been able to work through our issues.

There's a knock at my door the night after we make up, when I'm already in bed, and I haul ass to unlock the door.

"Hey."

"Hi," Sookie smiles shyly.

"I thought you said you had to get up early tomorrow." I'd asked her if she wanted to spend the night, and she'd declined.

"I do. I was hoping I could just sleep here."

Grinning, I wave her in and lock the door again. We crawl under the covers and I wrap my arm around her when she rests her head on my chest. I inhale the scent of her shampoo – something coconut-y – and smile when she murmurs in contentment and throws a leg across my hips.

"Do you want to celebrate our anniversary?" We sort of broke up a couple of weeks prior to it.

"We haven't technically been together a year at this point," she tilts her head up to say, with a smile.

"Are you really going to make that argument? I'd rather not change it from October 11th." It's really easy to remember, 10/11. "Besides, it's not like we were with other people."

"Well…"

"What?"

"You know me, I just couldn't keep my hands off of Sam." She's absolutely kidding, but I still growl and tickle her, grinning at the way she shrieks and arches away from my touch. "Stop! I surrender, I surrender." Letting up, I lay back and she reclaims her earlier position, panting and giggling a little bit. "You're one to talk, you were going to fuck Katie."

I groan and hide my face in her hair. "You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

"Nope, probably not." Her tone is light, but then she meets my eyes and her gaze darkens a little. "I would have been shattered if you'd slept with her. I don't know what I would have done. I don't know if I would have been able to get back together with you, even if we were technically not together."

I had thought about that, and it had terrified me. I would have regretted it instantly, I'm sure of it, because there was no doubt in my mind I wanted to get back together with Sookie. But my love for her had been overshadowed, temporarily, by the hurt from our breakup, and anger that was not necessarily caused by anything concrete. I was just angry. Sleeping with someone else seemed like an appropriate form of revenge, I'd decided at the club, with Katie in my lap. The anger had dissolved, instantly, when I'd seen the look in Sookie's eyes in the hallway.

"I love you," is the only thing I can think to say, and she offers me a smile that I kiss away.

888

We decide to keep it October 11th, and a few days later we go out for dinner in a classy restaurant-slash-jazz club. I'm impartial to jazz, but Sookie used to be a band geek and her eyes light up as she watches the sax solo happen on the small stage, and I decide I could like jazz after all. We order and I lead her to the dance floor, and she tucks her head against my neck as we sway to a jazzy cover of You Always Hurt The One You Love. The irony of the situation isn't lost on either one of us, and when I find myself singing along she lifts her head and rests a hand on my cheek, the other hand leaving mine for my chest. Our eyes lock and my breath catches, watching the light reflect in her familiar eyes, and she stretches up to press a kiss into my cheek and nuzzle her nose against the line of my jaw. With the last note, we turn and applaud the band, who announce they are taking a break. In our semi-circular booth, she crosses her legs and rubs the inside of my calf with her pump, shooting me a smile as she sips her wine. The food is fantastic; I share my grapefruit and avocado side salad that I'd gotten out of sheer curiosity, by now having grown used to her love for all things avocado, and Sookie surrenders her stuffed mushrooms. Later in my room, we have the chocolate mousse she made and afterwards, I bury my face between her thighs and revel in the way she trips over the syllables of my name. By two in the morning Sookie is asleep, her legs tangled with mine, and I stay awake to watch the faint streetlights filter through the curtains and shed light on her profile. She has a wonderful jaw line, defined but not overly so in a masculine way, and her nose is quirked upwards almost imperceptibly. Her eyelashes are blonde, and she hates it, covering them up with jet-black mascara that she insists has to be a certain brand I can't even pronounce. My favourite parts though, are her lips; dark pink and full, a little pouty when she's sleeping, and more often than not shining with lip balm that she asked me if I was okay with tasting, her brows furrowed adorably, when we first started dating.

It tastes like raspberry, and pomegranate, maybe.

She's so fucking beautiful, my heart aches at the thought of not having this.

"You're staring at me," Sookie whispers, lips turning upwards in a subtle smile followed by the opening of one eye.

"You're almost too beautiful."

"Too beautiful for you? Obviously." Her smile widens, and her eyes sparkle with mischief.

"Too beautiful to be real."

"You're too sweet." Moving closer, she presses a kiss into my chest and plays with the hair there. "Will you stay in bed until I wake up?" I always get up earlier, to shower or make breakfast.

"You don't want breakfast?"

"I just want you. We can make breakfast together."

"Well I'd be an idiot to turn that down."

She giggles; a wonderful, knowing, promising giggle. "You would be. Go to sleep."

"Yes ma'am."

**Sookie**

I run into Alcide on campus a few days after our Anniversary: Redux. After the usual pleasantries we pause, and I wait as he prepares himself to voice whatever it is he obviously wants to say.

"Sookie, don't do that to him again."

"I wasn't the only one doing the doing, Alcide." I frown.

"I know. But between you and me, if you broke up for good, you'd be the one who would be okay."

I bristle at that. "Because I love him less?"

"I didn't say that." Alcide levels me with his green eyes. "He's a big boy, I get that, but he's also my best friend. And he was _not_ okay when you guys were fighting."

"And I was?" I hiss back, not caring that there are people staring at us. "That was fucking insulting, Alcide. I get that you're looking out for him and I appreciate that, but the moment you start suggesting that I'm any less invested in us than Eric is, I will kick your ass, you ignorant jerk. If we break up for good, you can bet your multi-million dollar trust fund that I will be as big of a mess as he will be, and you better not for a second doubt that I decided to _do _it to him having thought it through, and as anything short of a last resort." With that, I storm away and leave a shocked Alcide standing by himself, with his mouth hanging open. Bursting into Eric's room fifteen minutes later, I claim his lips in a kiss that leaves him gaping at me, a little alarmed.

"What happened?"

I have tears in my eyes by now, and I clench my fists to keep from dissolving into sobs. "If we don't make it, don't you dare for a second think that I'll be anything remotely resembling okay."

"I won't," Eric responds, eyes wide in shock. "Baby, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I wipe my face with my sleeve. "I have to go to class." I'm late already, and I turn around to leave but Eric follows, stopping me with an arm hooked around my waist. By the end of the kiss he lays on me, I'm a boneless mass and I slump into him, sobs wracking my body. I'm glad he knows I won't tell him what upset me, and I pull away realizing it's too late to bother going to my next class; by the time I get there, it won't have been worth it at all.

"What were you working on?" I incline my head towards his laptop.

"Econ assignment." Eric tucks my hair behind my ear and strokes up and down my arms.

"Can I stay here while you work?"

"Sure." Smiling, he presses a last kiss into my hair and I curl up on his mattress with my iPod.

I'm asleep within minutes.

I don't talk to Alcide for weeks after that; I don't ignore him, but I sure as hell don't offer him anything beyond superficial pleasantries, and if Eric notices he doesn't say anything. Alcide notices though, and he texts me asking if we can go for coffee sometime. He's already there by the time I get to Starbucks after class, and I order a chai latte before plonking down on the seat across from him.

"Cupcake, I owe you an apology," he begins without any preamble.

"Yeah, you do."

He appears taken aback, but smiles and continues. "I didn't mean to insult you, or imply that you care any less for him than he does for you. Eric told me I upset you, though I guess you didn't tell him it was me who did."

"I wasn't interested in messing with your friendship." I take a sip and shrug.

"Thank you. I didn't deserve it, but thanks."

"You didn't deserve it," I tell him calmly. "I get that you were protecting him, but my relationship with him is none of your business. If we fight, it's not because I like upsetting him, it's because it's inevitable. You made an assumption, about me and my relationship, and you passed a judgment that was totally uncalled for." I take a deep breath. "Not that this is any of your business, but he means the world to me. I love him, and I make him happy, as does he. If you think I'm being inconsiderate of his feelings, your only job as his friend is to keep it to yourself and be there for him if I break his heart, which according to you will be soon, though I like to think it will be never. In the meantime, I don't hear him complaining."

Alcide takes a leisurely sip of his venti Americano. Eric probably picked up his massive caffeine addiction from him. "Got that off your chest?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Feel better?"

"I do, actually." Immensely.

"Are we friends again?"

I throw my purse over my shoulder and grab my drink, leaving my seat. "Yeah we are, you judgmental jackass." I hesitate. "And stop calling me Cupcake." I roll my eyes and walk away from him for the second time in as many weeks.


	12. Chapter 10

A/N: Wow, so you guys are pretty unhappy with Eric, eh? I was anticipating a bigger outcry for Sookie to stop being a whiny bitch. Regardless, thank you guys so much for all your lovely reviews; even if I don't respond, I promise you I read every single one. I love hearing your thoughts about everything.

Do continue to let me know your thoughts, please! I love to hear it =]

* * *

_Chapter 10_

**April 2012**

Our last night in res coincides with Eric's 20th birthday and we spend the entire day together, having packed the previous day. He laughs at the Viking replica I've gotten him in addition to the noise-cancelling headphones he has wanted for ever, and we have dinner at a relatively high-end restaurant where I insist on paying and so does Eric. I pull the if-you-keep-arguing-you'll-be-sleeping-alone card and he pouts but protests no more. I'm bluffing, of course, because he's wearing black dress pants and a crisp white shirt that make my lady bits react in a way that can only be described by trashy romance novels. He lights right up when I make some very naughty promises in his ear as we wait for the valet to pull up the car, and he drives us home with that lead foot of his.

We've been together for a year and half now, and even though we've had our ups and downs, things have been pretty great. Not living across the hall from each other was definitely for the best, since we ended up having to set some boundaries by the second term of our first year together, because it turned out to be extremely easy for us to invade the other's space without meaning to. But we've made it, made it through all the drama that is inevitable when you live in a building with hundreds of very sexually active individuals, a good chunk of whom are interested in your boyfriend. Eric always rolls his eyes when I tell him this, and often proceeds to point out just how many times in a day I get checked out without noticing. It's really sweet of him, and boosts my confidence a good deal, though I would never let him know. It does get him quite a few kisses and more, however.

So yeah, we're doing good. I do worry about graduation, unsure of what will happen once I've graduated and he has one more year to go, but I always figure that things will work out somehow, especially if I stay in UVan for my grad degree like I plan to.

That night, after having just spent a full two hours making love in every single manner possible, I'm just about to fall asleep in his arms until he speaks.

"Let's move in together," Eric murmurs into my hair.

I have to remind myself to keep taking deep, even breaths while I formulate a response. "You want to live with me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because we're been together for two years and we both have good enough jobs that we can pay rent."

"Ah, so it's practically expected of us," I roll my eyes and turn from him in the bed.

"And," he hooks an arm around my torso and pulls me back into him, "because I love you and I don't see a point in renting out separate rooms in res when we spend pretty much every night together anyways. And because I want to spend our last year together, together."

Wait, what? "Wait, what?"

"I figure since you're graduating…"

"So you decided for both of us that we won't be making it past this coming year." I want to clarify.

"I didn't think you would want to stick around," he mutters, his expression carefully blank.

"Stick around you or stick around Vancouver?"

"Both. You have so much potential, Sook, why would you want to go to UVan for your grad degree when you can go to McGill or something?"

"Maybe because I like it here?" I sit up, frowning at him as I do. "Maybe because _you're_ here?"

"But I shouldn't be a factor. You deserve so much better."

"Shouldn't that be _my_ decision, not yours? Or if you think it's true, shouldn't you suggest it to me and not make the decision for me?"

"Sookie, I just think you shouldn't let me hold you back."

"Again, _my_ choice, not yours!" I unclench my fists and continue, more calmly, "Honey, I appreciate that you think I deserve a better school. I'm flattered, really I am. But I assure you, I would want to stay here even if I had never met you. I love Vancouver, I adore it here, and I love this school, and for some reason that is somewhat slipping my mind at this exact moment, I love you too. And I'd appreciate it even more if you didn't decide for us our expiry date."

"I just don't want you to resent me," he shrugs, avoiding my gaze.

"I resent this attitude you have right now, but I won't ever resent you because this is what I want. This is what I would want if you and I had never made it." Another thought occurs to me and I continue, feeling less sure than before. "I'm not an idiot, okay, I know that we might not make it, and I'm pretty sure I will be the one telling _you_ to leave in two years, but I'm willing to cross that bridge when we come to it. Because I love you." I take his hands into mine and wait for him to gather his thoughts.

"Okay. So all the more reason for us to move in together," he grins and I have to laugh at how easily he flitted from that topic. "Come on, Sookie, I want to fall asleep and wake up next to you, every day," he pouts.

"I don't know, Eric. This is kind of a big deal. I mean, have you really thought about this past the waking-up-next-to-me thing? We'd be _always_ around each other, we'd be splitting living costs and sharing _everything_. Have you thought about that? Or did you just think we could live together for one year and you wouldn't have to worry about it past that?"

"I do want this for more than one year, I want this permanently. And I know it won't be all sunshine and bubbles, but it's not like we have never fought over the past couple of years. But we've always made it through, right? Because we love each other, and that seems like a pretty great reason to live together, especially if you're staying here for your grad degree. Sookie," he gathers my hands on my stomach and presses his body along my side, "I love you more than anything. I can't imagine wanting this with anybody but you. Can you?" Adjusting my body, I roll onto my side to throw a leg over his hips. His arm drapes itself over my waist.

Truthfully, I can't. I haven't been able to in such a long time, and I don't _want_ to do it with anybody other than him. He's my Eric, he's my best friend and, over the past two years, he's become my everything. I tell him this, in far fewer words, and he beams like I've simply proven his point.

"Okay then," he nods. "Should we look at apartments this summer?"

My face breaks into a hesitant grin when I really think about it, about finding a place to share with just him, a space of our own. "Yeah, okay." His own expression matches mine and he closes the distance between us to kiss me.

"Do you want to…?" His one brow rises suggestively.

"Again?" I giggle.

"Celebratory next-step-of-our-lives sex?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" I giggle again when his lips move to my neck and he rolls atop me. I love the weight of him on my body and tell him so as I let my fingers brush up and down his sides. "Tell me you love me more than anything," I order. It's a game we play, challenging the other to absurd declarations of love, and neither one of us ever backs down from a challenge.

"I love you more than anything," he laughs, grazing a finger along the thigh he has hitched up to meet his hips. "Tell me I'm your everything."

"You're my everything," I grin back. I love the shit out of him. When he rocks his hips against mine, I moan and let my hands roam to rest on his shoulder blades. Not long after, he slides into me and I hitch my legs up further, grabbing his gorgeous ass. His groans mix with the sounds I make as we make love, taking our time for the first time all night. Afterwards I fit my head into the niche of his neck and let my hand tease the hair on his chest, twisting it and smoothing it over his flesh.

"I'm excited to move in together," I admit softly and Eric laughs, kissing my hair.

"Me too."

"Happy twentieth, baby," I murmur into his jaw.

"And it was," my boyfriend laughs and I thump his stomach. His hand swallows mine on his chest and I snuggle closer to him to whisper goodnight and then fall asleep in his arms.

888

Eric and I have to move back home the next morning.

Murmuring quietly to each other as we slowly get dressed, we both use the bathroom and after a quick breakfast, begin carrying our stuff downstairs. My parents bought a car for my 20th birthday last July, claiming that they had some money lying around since I was paying for school myself. It's not a piece of crap either, I was delighted to find out. It's a red 2008 Nissan Rogue and I adore it, infinitely grateful to my parents for giving me a car that will last me quite a while. I fill the car to the brim with my stuff, having lightened my load by making a trip home last weekend with all the things I wouldn't need in my last week of finals. Eric is already done by the time I'm wheeling the last duffle bag downstairs and brings me a cup of coffee from the cafeteria.

"So I'll see you on Monday?" he asks, warding off any potential sadness. We've decided to spend the next few days in our respective hometowns before driving back here to start looking at places. In the meantime, we'll be looking at places online and picking ones that we're interested in, emailing back and forth with details and photos and whatnot. I have to admit, even though I'll be seeing him in four days, I'm still going to miss him like all hell because we haven't been apart this long since Octobergate. Eric's aunt invited me over for Thanksgiving, and he spent the winter break with me at my home, with my parents who have been in love with him since they met him last winter. I'm quite positive my parents love my boyfriend more than they love my brother. I nod, sipping at the double-double he handed me before placing it in the driver's cup holder.

"I think so," I smile, putting my arms around his waist to stroke the depression of his spine.

"I can't wait." Bending down, he presses a lingering kiss on my mouth and we stand there kissing for a few minutes. I cup his face in my hands, stroking over his faint stubble because he didn't bother shaving this morning.

"I love you, I'll see you in a few days," I murmur, pulling him into a hug. Lifting me up, he lets me wrap my legs around his waist and I close my eyes, feeling happy and light.

"Love you," he whispers into my hair and lets me down.

"Drive carefully, okay?" I give him another brief kiss and get into my car. "And call me when you get home."

"Ditto." He leans down and smiles at me through my open window. "Bye."

"Bye."

888

My parents take my news in stride, even managing to be excited for me. I appreciate their open-mindedness with the whole situation, especially on my dad's part because it can't be easy for him, accepting that his little girl wants to be living with her boyfriend. However, I point out, we've been together for almost two years, we love each other, and our relationship is functional and comfortable to the point where we've been dubbed the Old Married Couple by our close friends. I talk to Eric the night after my discussion with my parents to see how it went on his end of things. He tells me that his aunt wept, mostly in happiness, and told him she would be accompanying him to Vancouver to look at apartments. My parents will be accompanying us as well, I tell him, and we hang up even more excited than we had been before.

Back in Vancouver, it takes us a week to decide we want the first place we look at. It's tiny, but the bedroom is about as big as the living room and that's kind of perfect, considering the size of the bed we will have to get to accommodate my boyfriend. It's the second floor of an old townhouse that the owner remodeled to make independent of the first floor, with a fire escape-esque set of stairs leading up to it through the back of the building. The kitchen is decently-sized, to our mutual pleasure, which means that the bathroom is the one room that suffers, size-wise. We're in love though, and just to put the cherry on top of this perfect apartment is the fact that the landlady, old Mrs Bellefleur, only wants a minimal amount of rent due to her deceased husband having left her more than comfortable, financially. Oh, and also, it's practically right on campus.

We move in near the end of July.

Our furniture consists of a series of hand-me-downs from my parents and Eric's aunt; my parents even begrudgingly donate the old king-sized bed they kept in their guest room. The rest of the stuff comes together pretty quickly; an old desk belonging to Eric's aunt's second husband, an armchair in shockingly good conditions from my parents' basement, a small dining table retrieved from the storage unit my parents kept my Gran's furniture in following her death. We have to buy the rest of the stuff, splurging a little bit on the couch but finding chairs and a set of drawers through various garage sales. We fully move in on the last day of July, with the help of my parents, Eric's aunt and her latest husband. Mrs Bellefleur makes us iced tea to help us cool down, and invites us over for dinner which we politely decline, claiming exhaustion. By six, all the parental figures have left and we're in a fully-furnished, fully-stocked apartment all by ourselves. The sheer excitement has to wait while we collapse on the couch for a few hours. It's nine by the time we wake up and we peel ourselves off the couch and off each other, our sweat-dried skin sticking together. Ordering a pizza, we hop into and proceed to christen the shower, emerging flushed and sated just in time for the pizza to arrive. We laze around after dinner, watching a few episodes of _How I Met Your Mother _on DVD since the cable and internet have yet to be connected.

"Do you want to go to bed?" Eric asks when we're done season two for the fortieth time.

"Mm hmm." I smile and tell him to stay there and not come into the bedroom until I tell him. Regarding me curiously, he nods once and I walk away. In our bedroom, I quickly put on the black lacy sheer slip and matching thong. I'm usually not one for thongs, but I figure Eric will appreciate how it displays my ass. I pull out the various candles I had hidden in a box sneakily labeled _clothes_. Placing them all over the room, I light them all and, neatly folding down the covers, lay myself down.

"Eric," I call in a singsong voice and he appears a moment later, his jaw dropping when he takes it all in. I accept the hand he holds out to help me off the bed and let him twirl me around to take in the entire outfit.

"What's the occasion?" he asks with awe in his eyes.

"The occasion is me moving in with my amazing boyfriend. I just wanted something to, uh, express how excited I am about our new living arrangements." I beam at him, noting that he has his own way of expressing his excitement. Resting my hands on his biceps, I rise on my tippy-toes to softly kiss him, giggling when his hands drop to squeeze my ass. I pull away to quickly undress him and lead him back to the bed, resting my head on the pillows and I cooing happily when he rests his body atop mine. He nudges my thighs apart to rest his hips on mine, and my hands wander to learn the topography of his muscular back. I moan when his mouth busies itself with my neck.

"You're so beautiful, how are you so beautiful," he murmurs and I feel a spark of happiness shoot down my spine. I love the way he speaks when we're in bed. His tongue laves at my nipple through the thin material and I arch my chest into his mouth, wanting more. I'm so into what he's doing to me that I grumble when he abandons his efforts to tug off my thong and slide down in the bed. He places my feet on his shoulders and strokes his fingers up and down my thigh while his mouth begins doing what it does best. I've been wet practically ever since I left him in the living room, in anticipation, and what he does to me with his perfect lips is enough to make my hips move against his face. Letting my fingers thread through his blonde hair, I have to keep from shoving his face further in, forcing myself to be content with the way his tongue is pushing in and out of me.

"Eric, more, please," I gasp and his warm mouth moves up to my clit, his fingers replacing his tongue. "Oh god, Baby, oh god," I chant out, tightening my hands in his hair. My spine arches, pushing my pelvis forward for him to take with his mouth and my own mouth opens in a silent cry as I convulse around his fingers. My knees fall open as I relax into the mattress, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I recover from the orgasm. Eric kisses the inside of my thigh and crawls up to kiss my mouth, my juices still glistening on his lips, and I barely have the energy to really kiss him back but he doesn't really seem to mind. I can feel him hard against my thigh and the thought of that part of him inside of me instead of his fingers is enough to rouse me from my daze and I capture his mouth.

"Sookie," he whispers gruffly, fingering the flimsy material of my slip. "I want to fuck you in this." I can't help moaning and just like that, a switch is flipped and our pace quickens from lovemaking to fucking. His tongue slips into my mouth and is still there when he, with a jerk of his hips, fills me. I abandon his mouth to gasp in a lungful of air and wrap my legs around his waist, but he pauses to move my feet once again to his shoulders. His hands hold onto my thighs and he establishes a fast rhythm that soon has us both crying out. It's so liberating, that we can actually make some noise in our own place, and I gasp his name, knowing how much he likes it when I call his name when he's inside me. Briefly wondering if Mrs Bellefleur can hear us but dismissing the thought with the hope that her hearing aid is already out for the night, I let myself get lost in the sensation of him moving inside me at a rapid pace and soon my entire body is tensing with my impending orgasm.

"_FuckIloveyou_," my voice breaks. "Holy _shit!_" And with that, I'm coming around him, my muscles tightening enough to trigger his orgasm and milking him for all he's worth. Utterly spent, Eric pulls out, falling a little to the side so that his body is half on mine with his head resting over my shoulder.

"You are my most favouritest person in the whole wide world." He smoothes my damp hair away from my forehead and presses a kiss into my lips before tucking his face into my neck. "You're perfect." If my face wasn't already flushed from our exercise, I would be blushing but as it is, I just turn my head to kiss his forehead.

"So I'm guessing you like this?" I indicate the slip.

"This and that tiny piece of fabric you call underwear." He chuckles throatily.

Nudging him away, I slip off the lace and push him onto his back so I can rest my head at the juncture of his shoulder.

"I can't wait until the next time you wear it."

I think of that orgasm I just had and have to agree.

**August 2012**

**Sookie**

"Eric!" I screech in the least attractive manner possible. "For the love of God, put the cap on the freaking toothpaste!"

"Yes, sweetheart," he yells back from the living room where he's shutting everything down in preparation for bed.

"It's not funny." I stomp out of the bathroom to glare at him. "It takes like three seconds to screw the cap back on. Why is it so beyond your realm of capabilities?"

"Why is it such a big deal? It's just a cap!"

"Yeah, a cap you can take a moment of your day to put back on, and you still don't."

"Because it's _just_ a cap, Sookie. You realize that, right? It affects very little in the grand scheme of things." His voice is tinged with sarcasm now and does very little to calm me.

"Alright, well, I guess in our _tiny_ scheme of life, you'll be spending the night on the couch," I hiss back.

"Why would I sleep on the couch when you're the one who has a problem with a toothpaste cap?"

"Because I am about to _kick your ass_, Eric Northman!"

He snorts, actually snorts. "You and what army?"

"Oh, you stupid-" I run at him and pound my fists on his chest in the second it takes him to grab my wrists and pin me to the wall, placing the mother of all kisses on me. Legs wrapping around his waist, I still scowl at him when he breaks the kiss. "You're a jerk."

"Oh baby, I love it when you call me that," he growls. When his eyes flash playfully and he ducks down to kiss my neck, I moan and grind my hips into his hardness, calling him an ass in the process.

"More," he groans in mock arousal even though I can still feel him through his pants.

"I hate you." I have to bite back the laughter because this is just silly but even though we're joking around, this is still really hot and I arch my back to push my breast into his palm. We have hot and dirty wall-sex, and afterwards Eric carefully lowers us both to the floor, lying back so I'm on top of him.

"Okay, but you still need to stop leaving the cap off," I mumble into his neck and he chuckles breathlessly to ruffle my hair and press a kiss into it.

"If you still have mind-blowing wall-sex with me, I'll cap everything in the apartment."

888

Other than the little things that bother me, I quickly decide that I love living with Eric. Three years of living in a room with a shared bathroom had almost been too much, and I had considered moving out until I'd seen Eric's carefully composed face, so I hadn't really pushed it, since it wasn't a big deal to me anyways. Living with said boyfriend in a home of our own is better anyways, especially since we're still practically on campus, except with a private bathroom and a living room of our own. The downside is we actually have to prepare every meal and keep a stocked fridge if we don't want to starve. We do try to adjust our work schedules so we're at home around the same times, wanting to make sure living together _feels_ like living together. He's pretty good about picking up his socks and putting down the toilet seat, which is at least a relief. I know he hates it when I don't turn the TV off when I leave the room, but I figure it balances out with the toothpaste thing and eventually let it slide. We switch off on cooking dinner, though we're pretty flexible with taking an extra day if the other isn't feeling up to it, especially once school starts.

With the school year comes the time for grad school applications; UVan, and a couple of others just in case I don't get in. Except I haven't quite thought through what I'm going to do if I don't get into into UVan; my backup is UVic, a few hours away by ferry, but living together makes things a bit complicated. I can't help feeling like I didn't quite think things through, that this is a mistake and I'm going to pay for it by having to take drastic measures and completely change the path my life is taking. Eric has to talk me down from the figurative edge at one point, when I'm knee-deep in applications and hyper-ventilating.

"Sookie, you have like a 3.9 GPA, you're going to get in."

"3.85," I correct, tears filling my eyes and his eyes widen as he senses my breakdown has very little to do with logic. Pulling me into his lap, he wraps his arms around my waist.

"What are you worried about?" he asks. "This place? Our contract runs out next summer. You can't possibly be worried about _us_ because you have to know we'll make it, no matter what. You know that, right Sookie?"

"But what am I supposed to do, if I get in somewhere else? Am I supposed to take it, or stay here and try again?"

"You do whatever the hell you want to do. If you think you can be satisfied at another school, take it. If UVan is where you want to go, no matter what, then you stay here and try again."

"What about you?" I sniffle, hiccupping a little bit.

"What about me? I love you, I want you to be happy. You're also the only one I want, so we'll do long-distance unless _you_ tell me you don't want to."

"But that's so unfair to you."

"No, it has nothing to do with fairness," he tells me quite calmly. "You're not doing something to hurt me, you're just trying to live your life and I would have to be one selfish motherfucker to resent you for it. Nothing unfair is being done _to_ me; long-distance won't be easy on either one of us, but if you tell me you want us to be together, then we'll do it." Wiping away my tears, he offers me a smile and kisses my cheek. "Besides, it'd only be for a year, and I could apply to grad school where you're going… And I don't even know why we're discussing this in the first place because you _will_ get into UVan."

I sniffle, wincing at the snot I swallow, and nod at him. "Okay."

"Say, 'Eric, you are right'," he orders and, when I scoff, insists, "Say it!"

"Eric, you're right," I grumble.

"Now say it like you believe it."

I sigh. "Eric, you are right."

"Good girl. See? Everything's going to be fine."

**Eric**

I remember thinking that having a relationship when you're in your last year of high school is stupid. Beyond stupid. Because, assuming you even make it to the end of the year, there's still the question of whether or not you're going to stay together after the summer. If you don't, then it sucks because you'll be plagued with the what-if's, what if you didn't have to move away, what if you'd tried long-distance, what if. And if you stay together, you have to spend weeks at a time virtually single, alone, pining for somebody who isn't there and without the added benefit of random hookups to make you feel better about yourself.

Of course, by the time I would have had to worry about any of those things, my girlfriend whom I had thought I loved had already cheated on me with my friend and then gotten killed because of a car accident that we both got in. So it had been a moot point for me then.

Now, I think this is worse than any end-of-high-school relationship limbo could have been, because I'm not a kid anymore. I'm twenty, and my girlfriend of two years, maybe the love of my life, may have to move away and that sucks more than anything because I can't hold her back, especially if she doesn't want me to. I can't make her settle – if she wants something more – because I love her too much to have her be unhappy, but I love her too much to live without her.

But then I have to hold her in my arms as she sobs and I have to rethink the limbo thing, because here I was worrying about my own internal conflicts, not realizing that she has one of her own because she loves me too and she doesn't know what the hell to do any more than I do.

And I love her so fucking much, it feels like my heart is going to burst out of my chest.

"I'm invoking my rights, in this relationship."

Sookie barks out a short laugh. "I beg your pardon?"

"My rights. I'm invoking them."

"Which rights?"

"My rights to… have you listen to me. For a little bit." She narrows her eyes at me.

"Go on."

"We need to stop worrying about this. Both of us. Because we are, worrying about this, and there's no point to it until we know if you've been accepted you UVan. In the unlikely event that that doesn't happen, then we can worry about all this shit."

"And you're invoking your… relationship rights."

"Right. With capital letters." I shoot her my most charming smile and she regards me with a dubious look.

"I can't help worrying about it."

"But there's no point. It'll all have been useless when everything works out."

"But Eric-"

"Shush! My rights have been invoked, Miss Stackhouse!" I do my best to put on a self-righteous expression and she pouts before nodding that she understands. Still, she looks so subdued that I bend down to kiss her, lightly at first and then with a bit more passion when she kisses me back.

"I love you."

She regards me for a long moment and nods again. "I know you do." Pressing a kiss into my cheek, she brushes the bit of stubble I have let grown out and giggles. "And I'm rather partial to this beard thing you've got going. It makes you look manly."

"I'm always manly." I frown in mock offense.

"I know, but now you're rugged." She giggles again and rubs at my chin. "And really sexy. It's a turn on." There's a sudden heat in her eyes, and she leans forward, ever so slowly. We kiss, gently at first, barely touching, and then she's wrapped tight around me as I carry her to our bed. Undressing ourselves, I settle myself against her hips and bury myself inside her with a deep thrust. She feels like home, has felt like it since the first time we did this almost two years ago. Now is no different, and the warmth I feel in the pit of my stomach when she arches into me has nothing to do with my impending orgasm. I want to prolong this, for as long as I can, and I savour every thrust of my cock inside her.

"Eric," she whispers and tugs me down for a kiss. Her legs are wrapped tight around me, and I groan at the sound she makes when I drop a hand down to tease her clit. Letting my mouth wander down, I capture her breasts and make another sound when she pushes her chest into me.

"I'm close," my girl breathes. "Kiss me." Hands drifting to my ass when I do, Sookie whispers that she loves me into my lips.

"God, Sook." I'm so close, I can fucking taste it in my teeth and I add a little grind to my thrusts, hitting all her spots until she cries out and spasms around me, taking me with her. In the aftermath, I lie facing her and she drapes a leg over my hips. We push each other's damp hair away, and she giggles when I kiss her moist forehead.

"Love you," I murmur. She buries her head in my chest with a quick lick to my nipple and I jerk. "Christ. You're something else."

"I'm yours."

I let my fingers stroke through her hair, matted and messy from our romp in the bed. She watches me drowsily, as I twirl a piece of hair around my finger and then let it unravel. Taking the hand she has resting on my waist, I stroke her ring finger and look up to find her eyes glued to our hands.

"One day, I'll ask you. Okay?" Her gorgeous blue eyes meet mine as I continue, "Not right now. You deserve so much more than I can give you right now. But one day, I'll ask you to be my wife." Entwining her fingers with mine, Sookie stretches forward to press a kiss into my chin.

"And when you do, I'll say 'yes'."

**Sookie**

I receive my acceptance letter in February, to our mutual relief. Eric waits patiently as I gather myself enough to tell him that yes, he was right, I obviously had nothing to worry about. Afterwards, he makes an entry in his Blackberry calendar, marking my having said the words "you are right" to make sure he has evidence, for any and all future incidents.

Of course, that summer I have to start worrying about Eric's grad school. I sit him down in September and tell him I'll support his choice of grad schools, no matter what he picks. Even if he picks the University of Toronto, I make sure to add, and he laughs and tells me there's no need; he wants to go to UVan. When I try to argue, he interrupts me with a kiss because he has no interest in going anywhere else. I have to make sure, that _he's_ sure, because I don't want him to resent me, and he assures me over and over again that I have nothing to worry about. In January of the following year we receive a letter from the University of Vancouver and I consider throttling him to death when he lays the envelope aside and finishes his breakfast, swallowing the very last drops of coffee before picking it up again. It's an acceptance to the graduate Business program, and I realize I'm more excited than I was about my own acceptance when I squeal and start hopping on the spot. Laughing, Eric scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the bedroom, where we proceed to celebrate for several hours.

A few days later I realize that this is it; there are no other major variables left in our lives. In a few years, we'll both be done school for good and we can stop worrying about holding the other back. No more fears of not receiving acceptances, or of not managing to live together, or of the other not wanting the same things. We've been talking about marriage for a few years; nothing too serious, just hypotheticals and how we would want things if and when it turns out to be in the cards for us. I've loved him for far longer than I thought I would when I walked into his res room nearly four years ago, and he loves me far more than I thought I would get; I'm willing to marry him the moment we're both done this grad school thing we've gotten ourselves into. For now though, I'm totally content with what we have.

As long as we want the same things, waiting until we're ready sounds like a good plan to me.


	13. Interlude 3

A/N: 'Ali' asked me about University of Vancouver versus the University of British Columbia, which I've sorta addressed before but here it is again =] UVan is purely fictional, as is the entire campus as written in SEH. Truth is, I don't know the University of British Columbia campus in Vancouver well enough to write about it, so I made my own university. I hope that's all clear, especially for those of you who actually live in Vancouver/attend UBC. The site didn't let me respond to you, Ali, so I hope this is sufficient!

Having said that, I hope you enjoy this =]

* * *

_Interlude 3: _**November 2013**

I nudge the office door further open and pose in the doorway in what I hope is a seductive fashion, my hands on the frame, one leg hitched up a little.

"Honey?"

Eric looks up from his homework, trapping his pen between his teeth as he regards me. "Yes, darling?"

I ignore the jab. "You know how there's different reasons to have sex?"

He raises a brow. "You mean other than being horny and wanting to get off?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes."

"Go on."

"I just shaved my legs."

Eric's jaw drops open. I'm not really big on shaving in the winter months, much to his unhappiness. It's just too much effort, when I'm going to be wearing long pants and boots all the time, so this is the first time in a while. It had gotten so bad though that I had been a little ashamed of myself, though even more sure in Eric's affection towards me, considering he went down on me a couple of nights ago. "This is a cruel joke, Stackhouse." He doesn't think I did it. Understandable, since I've teased him before.

"And I got waxed," I add, enjoying the way his eyes widen even further as he walks towards me. Keeping his eyes on mine, he hitches up my bare leg for a stroke, and grins at me when he finds it smooth. Tilting my head away, he places kisses on my neck while his hand slips inside the tiny shorts that are all I'm wearing. I jerk, out of surprise.

"Just a little patch," he muses, and gapes at me. "That must have hurt like a motherfucker."

"It did." Sweet lord, did it ever. But I feel like it might have been worth it. Eric sweeps me up in his arms, carrying me to the bedroom and depositing me on the mattress. Swiftly, he discards his own clothes and mine, and buries his face between my legs.

Yup, definitely worth it.

Eric is well-endowed, and he knows what to do with it, but this is my favourite part of being intimate with him. This, and the way he groans into my neck when he comes. I mumble and moan, his name and my love for him tumbling out of my mouth as he works me enthusiastically, pushing me to the edge and shoving me over it with his skilled mouth.

"Oh god," I whisper wide-eyed. "I fucking love your mouth."

"So you were moaning," he grins and pulls me onto my side, hitching my thigh over his hip and letting his hand slide up the skin tenderly. I press my lips against his, squeezing his bicep as he enters me slowly, murmuring to me the entire time as I squirm to adjust the angle. He begins moving, ever so slowly, and lets the passion build up like we haven't seen in each other in week.

"Jag älskar dig," he groans, squeezing his eyes shut when I squeeze him, from the inside. He loves me. I have no idea where that came from, but I lean my forehead against his, tangling my hand in his hair and making a sound not unlike a sob when he hits a particular spot.

"I can't get – _oh_ – enough of you. Why can't I get enough of you." I want him, all the time. I want his hands splayed on the small of my back, pushing me towards his body, and I want his length buried inside me. I think about my lips on his and his legs tangled with mine as we fall asleep together, I miss his hand swallowing mine and his mouth twitching upwards in a smile. It was our three-year anniversary a couple of weeks ago, and I still can't imagine loving anybody more than I love him, my love, my European boy. It scares the shit out of me to think that I turned him down, I said no, and now he's the only one I can imagine my life with.

"You feel amazing, Baby." He moans into my mouth and rolls us over so he's on top. I cry out when he slides deeper in, and place sloppy kisses on his neck, moaning more loudly at this new perfect angle.

"I'm gonna come," I whisper, wrapping my arms tightly around his chest. Burying his face in my neck, he adjusts his languid strokes to sharp and wonderful thrusts, hitting the parts of me that make my toes curl and my mouth fall open in a silent cry as I freeze in the second before I start spasming around him. He climaxes at the same time, jerking and crying out into my flesh as his hips ride out our mutual orgasms.

"That had never happened before," I breathe heavily. It had felt amazing to finish with him, on more than a physical level, and I don't let him move away by wrapping my limbs around his gorgeous, gorgeous body. "You're not going anywhere."

He laughs. "I'm not crushing you?" Bit by bit, he lowers himself on top of my body, giving his arms a break much to my chagrin. I love his strong arms on either side of my head, digging into the mattress.

"Christ, you're heavy."

"Oh, but if I say that to you, I get slapped."

"You're heavy because you're muscular, and you have about a foot on me. I wasn't calling you fat." I pout even though he can't see me, with his face tucked against my jaw. "Do you think I'm fat?"

"I don't think you're fat."

"But?"

"But, nothing. You're not super skinny, and that's okay. Better than okay, actually, because you have a nice ass and I love how soft you are."

I giggle. "And I thought you were a breast man."

"I _am_ a breast man. And you have the most amazing breasts. But your hot ass doesn't hurt either. And your legs. I fucking love your legs."

"Which are smooth, for once."

It's his turn to laugh. "Indeed. That was really good sex."

"Because of my legs?"

"Because of who is attached to your legs."

"Oh god, you weren't imagining Rebecca Romijn, were you?" I tease, winking at him when he lifts his head.

"There is just no good answer to that," he laughs, shaking his head.

"It's okay," I stroke his hair and he moves off of me to rest his chin on my shoulder and drape his limbs over my body. "I really love you, Eric Northman. I know I was hesitant at first, but I really do."

"It felt like such an achievement to get you to go out with me." He smiles and taps my nose with a finger. "Alcide told me to man up because I was so worried about it."

"What were you worried about?" Frankly I'm surprised that he was anything but 100% confident in his ability to woo me.

"That all our chemistry would go out the window, somehow." He shrugs. "I don't know. A bunch of really unfounded fears."

I cock my head to the side at how invested he had been, apparently, before we had even gotten together. He had been so persistent in convincing me, but I had never considered that it might have been anything more than doggedly chasing what refused to be his.

"Did I hurt you, when I told you I wasn't interested?"

He chuckles. "It was three years ago, Sook."

"Did I hurt you?"

My Eric smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Yeah. I wanted you and you didn't want me back. It hurt."

The nonchalant way he says that somehow has more of an effect than it would have any other way. So even though it was years ago, and I did say 'yes' eventually, I'm suddenly overcome with sadness.

"I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it's okay." He looks shocked at my rather extreme reaction. "I'm over it. You did say 'yes' eventually. I got the girl." Grinning, he strokes my arm reassuringly and waits for me to pull myself back together.

"If it makes it any better, I wanted you from pretty much the moment I saw you, I just wanted you to realize my worth before I gave in to your sexabilities." I wink.

"I realized your worth from the beginning, Min Älskade." I adore it when he calls me by his Swedish pet name for me. "I always knew you were going to be worth the trouble."


	14. Chapter 11

A/N: Hey guys! I'm so sorry about the huge delay, FF was being a bit of a bitch and not letting me post at all. I already a posted a short chapter, and here is this one, and I think I will post another one tonight. Also, I now have a wordpress site, and I've put the address on my profile. If FF continues to do this, that's where I will update.

Let me know what you guys think! =]

* * *

_Chapter 11_

**April 2014**

**Sookie**

"And with that, I present to you the 2014 graduates of the Lydell School of Business!"

Eric's aunt, Felicia and I jump up, applauding as the class toss their caps into the air and the audience swarms them, the grads seeking out their loved ones with wide grins on their faces. I lag behind the two other women as we easily locate his tall frame and they take turns throwing themselves into his arms.

"I'm so proud of you, sweetheart!" Thalia gushes and kisses my boyfriend on the cheek, wrapping him in her tiny frame.

"Thanks, auntie." He grins, knowing she hates that nickname but she lets it slide this time. Next is Flick, and I watch with a smile as they exchange quiet words. I used to be insecure, about how he was with her on the rare occasion she visited us, but he's always very careful with how he acts around us both. He has always made it clear, the roles we fill in his life, and now his eyes flick to me and I beam at him, jumping into his arms once they're vacated.

Catching me easily, he whispers, "I did it, Sook."

I smile at him. I'm the only one he expressed his insecurities to; academics, though never a challenge for him, had never been what he was _known _for. He got into university because of his athleticism, and I had spent many a time assuring him that he could do it, do this higher-education thing without needing to rely on his physicality. I had, and continue to have, absolute and unwavering trust in him; he's bright, intelligent. Not as well-read as I like to keep myself, with my book-worm attitude, but once he's interested in something, his knowledge in it grows exponentially. When he finds something to be passionate about, it takes my breath away, the way his eyes glow. Him succeeding, receiving an acceptance to grad school here at UVan, just proved the point I had tried to prove to him so many times over the past four years.

"I'm _so _proud of you, Eric." He swings me around and sets me down when I scream in surprise, only to kneel on the floor. "What are you doing?" Glancing at Thalia and Flick, I find them with shocked expressions to match mine and I return my gaze to Eric.

"Sook, I've wanted you since the first time I saw you. I've loved you since the first time I kissed you. I can't imagine the past four years without you, and I would have done this sooner but I wanted to wait until I had something to give you, something that would make me feel like I deserve you. But I've known for ages that I don't want this with anybody else. You're the only one. I love you to pieces. So I'm asking you if you will do me the honour of becoming my wife." Biting his lip, he adds, "I don't have a ring. I didn't exactly plan to do this today, but I'll get you one as soon as I can, I promise." I laugh, wiping at my tears and nodding, vehemently. I've known my answer since he kneeled; it's a no brainer, I love the shit out of him.

"Yeah. Yes, of course I'll marry you." I squeal when he lifts me up into his arms and capture his mouth in an enthusiastic kiss. We pull apart at the sound of Thalia bursting into tears.

"Mom, what..." Eric asks, bewildered.

"I'm just so happy for you," she weeps and pulls him into what I'm sure is a rib-crushing embrace. Another round of hugs later, Eric and I are both beaming and his arm is wrapped around my shoulder when his friend Alcide approaches us, his attire matching Eric's.

"Eric, man, we did it!" Releasing Eric, I let Alcide pull him into his arms and watch with a smile as they share a man-hug. I never thought, three years ago, that the boy in the coma would wake and become one of Eric's best, and one of my closest friends. Now, he seems to notice the matching expressions on Eric and I's faces and he raises a brow. "What's going on?"

"Sookie's just agreed to marry me," Eric grins and accepts another hug and heartfelt congratulations from his best friend before the latter turns to me.

"Congratulations, Cupcake." I groan at the nickname but accept his kiss to my cheek and the tight hug he offers me.

"Thanks, jackass."

"Harsh. Why is Eric marrying you again?"

"Because she can handle you," Eric rolls his eyes. Alcide shoots Thalia a charming smile and offers her a handkerchief. Alcide _would_ have a handkerchief in his pocket and Eric and I share a knowing look before our faces break into grins again. _I love you_, I mouth at him and he pulls me close for another kiss. We get interrupted by Alcide and Flick gagging and not long after, we're making our way through the crowd to the parking lot. We have lunch at Eric's favourite Greek restaurant with everybody plus Alcide's girlfriend Maria, who spends the lunch receiving glares from Felicia. I'm too busy not jumping Eric, otherwise I would be trying to figure out what exactly is going on between his two best friends, other than incessant flirting. Alcide orders a bottle of champagne and toasts us, wishing us the best, and Eric bends to kiss my neck after we clink our glasses. I spend the rest of lunch keeping my touches innocent, stopping my hand from travelling too far up his thigh and careful not to deepen the many kisses he offers me.

By the time we get to our apartment, I'm practically ready to burst and I push him into the door the moment we shut it.

"I love you, I swear I'll buy you a ring tomorrow," he murmurs into my kiss as I push off his dress shirt and get started on his pants.

"There's no hurry. Well, not for that, anyways," I giggle. "Unbutton these damn pants."

"Ooh, bossy," he teases, his fingers unzipping my dress.

"Northman," I warn.

With a swift move, he's naked. "Done."

"You went commando to your own graduation?"

"Of course."

"So did I." I let the dress pool to my feet and watch his jaw drop. "Take me to bed, future husband."

"My pleasure, future Mrs. Northman."

888

I giggle breathlessly when Eric tickles my ribs on his way back up my body and I tug on his earlobes, curling my spine forward to capture his mouth. He tastes like me.

"You're perfect," I whisper, beaming, and we rearrange ourselves so I'm sitting in front of him, legs straddling his waist. I'm still shuddering from the orgasm, and his lips are red from sucking on my clit so I brush them reverently with my fingers.

"You know, it makes me proud when you say that."

"Well, you do give perfect head, it's the truth."

"Oh stop it, my ego is ballooning."

"Oh is that what that is?" I laugh breathlessly, guiding his 'ego' to my entrance and, using his shoulders as leverage, take him inside me.

"You may call it whatever you want, as long as you – _oh _– keep doing that." I abandon his shoulders in favour of digging my hands into the mattress, pushing my hips against his. Eric's hands on my hips direct me, his eyes transfixed on where his length disappears inside my body, and I can't take my eyes off of him. I love him so much; even though I know we won't be able to get married for a while, I can't help feeling thrilled, knowing that he wants me as much as I want him. Adjusting the angle of my hips, I feel him brush against my sensitive spot and my head falls back, my mouth opening as I stare unseeingly up at the ceiling.

"Look at me," he orders raggedly and I force myself to meet his gaze, losing my breath at the intense look in his gorgeous blue eyes. One hand relocating to the small of my back, he uses the other to tease my nipples and I watch him alternate between both breasts.

"Eric, Eric, Eric," I breathe, wanting his hand lower. My fiancé, being the amazing man that he is, drops his thumb to rub at me without me even having to ask and I let out a moan, my heart thundering in my chest. One strong arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me close, bringing his legs together so that I'm bouncing in his lap, knees bent and feet digging into the mattress. He drops his head to mouth at my neck, licking and biting my flesh. I love the sensation of my chest against his and I gasp out that I love him.

"So much," he agrees and I squeeze my eyes shut, crying out as I feel myself tightening around him. Eric's cry is muffled against my neck as he reaches his own completion and he murmurs over and over that he loves me.

"Love you," I giggle, feeling light and happy in my orgasmic daze. We kiss, my arms still tight around his shoulders, and smooth our hands over the other's skin. "I've lost track of how many orgasms I've had in the past 24 hours."

"Okay, I lied earlier. It makes me proud to hear you say _that._"

"You realize that you're going to have to top this on our wedding night, right?"

"Challenge accepted." He mouths at my collarbone.

"Do you want to wait until after your grad degree?"

"You'd be okay with waiting four years?"

"Yeah." I shrug, thinking about it. "I mean, I don't want to wait forever, but four years isn't forever. I want to marry you, but it's enough to know that you want to marry me too; that makes it worth it, if you want to wait until we're both done with school."

"Wow, you really mean that don't you?"

I nod, smiling. "Yup. I'm not tricking you by saying one thing and meaning another. It's your wedding too." I love saying that, _his wedding_. _Our_ wedding.

He kisses my forehead, tucking my hair behind my ear. "You're perfect, you know that, right?"

"Only to you." I kiss his nose. "And you're the only one that matters."

"Bet you say that to all the boys that propose to you."

"Yup. Every, single, one." Punctuating every word with a kiss to his face, I end with his lips and hide against his neck.

"You know what I just realized?" He asks suddenly and I incline for him to go on. "The last girl I slept with, before you who are to be my wife, was Tania." His expression expresses his distaste. "I almost wish I had slept with someone… less gross." I can't help laughing; it's just like him to think about something like that.

"Well, the last guy I slept with, who was also my first time, and not at all a good time, was Quinn." I bite my lip, hiding my smirk. "I almost wish I'd slept with more boys before you. I'm sure Sam would have been up to it."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"That's _Mister _Jerk to you."

"Guess that makes me Mrs Jerk-Bitch. Unless I just take your name. Mrs Jerk. This is the worst name ever." He laughs along with me, and we fall silent.

"So, four years to plan a wedding, huh?"

"Mmhmm. Prepare for me to become insufferable, as I pick out centerpieces and china patterns and bridesmaid dresses."

"Do you want me in a tux?"

"I want you in a tux, and then I want you out of the tux."

"And have me you shall."

"But let's start with having you on top," I grin, and the next moment he is.

**Eric**

I can't believe she said 'yes'. I can't believe she said 'yes'. I can't believe she said 'yes'.

I think this with every thrust, with every push of my hips against hers. The thought that she loves me enough to not only say 'yes' to spending the rest of her life with me, but also to put off the wedding until we're both out of school, makes me dizzy. Burying my face in her neck, I groan when she tightens her muscles around me and I murmur that I love her. I'm close already but I want her to come first so I let my thumb drift to her clit to rub circles around it and her hips arch off the bed with her pleasure as she comes hard, screaming as she clenches around me and I climax with her.

I hadn't meant to propose. Well, I had, but not yesterday. Certainly not like that, without a ring and a single consideration as to the fact that she very well might have said 'no' to me in front of my aunt and entire graduating class. But now, laying next to her in our bed with our legs still tangled and our bodies cooling, I look at the light in her eyes when she looks at me and wonder how I could have ever imagined her saying 'no'. She loves me, she's wanted me for probably as long as I have wanted her, even though she didn't admit to it for a long time. If she had said 'no', it wouldn't have had anything to do with not loving me enough, because she does.

She leans over and kisses my nipple, and I can't help chuckling at her. Cooing, she moves on top of me and I try to figure out if I can go for another round. I'm pretty sure we've had sex a dozen times since we got home yesterday, and she woke me up with a blowjob that I reciprocated, before we had sex again, twice. So three orgasms today and, judging by the way she's sucking on my neck right now, she's ready for more. I remember when she was only comfortable with missionary position, and even then only in half-dark.

I love how far we've come, her and I.

That day, after we've managed to tear ourselves away from each other, I make Amelia meet me so we can go shopping for a ring. Sookie called her and Tara last night, along with her parents, to announce our engagement so Amelia's more than willing to help me. We both know Sookie isn't a big fan of diamonds, preferring her birthstone instead, so ruby it is. Two hours later, we find it in an antique store; an oval ruby set in white gold, flanked by two smaller diamonds. It's simple and sophisticated and she's going to love it. I pay for it, blowing a good chunk of my savings on it but I don't care because it's even the right size and that's just another sign that it's the right ring. Amelia squeals a little bit and hugs me, only leaving when I promise her she will see Sookie soon and that for tonight, I just want her for myself.

Sookie's sitting on the couch when I get home, her legs stretched along the length and her laptop resting on her thighs. Grinning up at me, she murmurs a hello and moves her laptop to the coffee table, and I move to lie atop her body with my face pressed into her stomach.

"What'chu doin'?" She asks playfully, her hands resting on my shoulder blades and then traveling to stroke my hair.

"I have something for you," I say into her stomach, muffling my own voice. Her body shakes with laughter and she asks me to repeat myself, so I twist my body to retrieve the tiny box from my pocket. Straddling her hips, I place the box on her stomach with what I'm sure is a shit-eating grin. Her perfect mouth falls open, her eyes softening as she reaches to pop it open. I watch her face as she gasps, covering her mouth, and looks up at me.

"I know you said 'yes' already, but Sookie Stackhouse, will you marry me?"

She nods for a full three seconds before she speaks, "Yeah. Yes. Of course. Will you...?" I take the ring and slide it onto her shaking finger. She has tears in her eyes but she's beaming as she pulls me forward for a kiss, knocking the box onto the ground in the process.

"Why are you crying, Baby?"

"I don't know, I think it just hit home." She takes in a shaky breath. "You really want to spend the rest of your life with me?"

"Nope. I just have no concept of appropriate humour."

"You jerk." I try to kiss her again but she turns her face away and it takes a bit of nudging to get her to turn back, albeit reluctantly.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Every single day of it, Sookie. I want to be the only one you ever kiss, and the only one you wake up to, and the only one you fall asleep with." Tell me you want the same things, Sookie.

"Then I guess you've got yourself a future wife, Mr Northman." She grins at me, tears in her eyes once more, and I grin back.

**September 2014**

**Sookie**

I groan as I push open the door and head down the aisle to near the front of the small lecture theatre. This is one of the few required courses I have to take, Professional and Ethical Issues, and I loathe it already. The silver lining, Eric had pointed out, is that it's only an hour long, twice a week, and I've already put it off until my second year. Regardless, I pick one of the many empty aisle seats in the sparse room and sink down into it with very little grace.

_Suicidal yet?_

I scowl at Eric's text. Douchebag.

_Douchebag._

_Don't be mean. I was just trying to be thoughtful =(_

_Hmph._

I glance up around me, to note that the room is slowly but surely filling up. There's still another ten minutes until the class starts, though the prof is already busy writing his name and whatnot on the board. He's a squat balding middle-aged man with honest-to-god elbow patches on his tweed jacket, and I sigh and return my attention to my phone.

_Will it make you feel better if I eat you out tonight?_

One-track mind. It's cute though.

_What else you got, Northman?_

_I'll do the dishes._

_Go on._

_How upset *are* you?_

I can't help laughing.

_You're the best fiancé ever =) I'll take the first thing, and the second thing I'll help you out with._

There's a long pause, and I frown at the asshole who bumps my shoulder with his messenger bag as he walks by and throws himself into the seat in front of me.

_Wait, which one was the eating you out thing?_

_The first thing! How would I be able to help you out with THAT?_

_That's what I wanted to know._

I can't help but burst out laughing with the most undignified sound ever, and I'm prepared to apologize to the asshole, who has turned around to shoot me an unimpressed look, but the apology dies in my throat.

"Sookie."

"Bill?"

This is unreal. How did this even happen? I could have sworn Bill went to U of Alberta for his undergrad, and stayed there for his grad degree, though to be fair I hadn't exactly put in an effort to keep up with his life.

"You don't mind if I join you, do you?" He doesn't wait for the response, and instead squeezes in and takes up the empty seat next to me. "You look great. How are you?"

"I'm good, what the hell are you doing here?"

The corners of his mouth twitch upwards. He's handsome, I've always thought so. He has this thin nose that makes him look more handsome than he actually is, and inky eyes striking against his pale complexion. I remember when his dark hair used to be shaggier, but now it's styled to the side, giving him a sophisticated air.

"I'm learning," he responds cryptically.

"In my graduate clinical psychology class." I raise a brow. Bill is two years older than me; he should be in his last year of studies. In Edmonton, where U of A is.

"In _our _clinical psychology class." There's that fucking smirk again. I'm starting to get angry. "I'm doing my grad degree in Psych. I changed my major years ago."

"And your school, too," I note.

"I took a couple of years off, to travel, and Edmonton just didn't feel like home anymore. It snows too fucking much. Can you believe the winters drop to the negative-forties?"

I have nothing to say to him. There are just no words for me to express my emotions, not that I know what it is I'm feeling. The bell, quite literally, saves me and I make a show of busying myself with meticulous note-taking. Fifty-minutes of talking about what to do if your patient is having an affair with your spouse, and the class is finally over.

"Maybe we can go for coffee sometime," Bill suggests as I hastily throw everything in my huge purse.

"Sure, I think I'd like that." I'm positive I will hate that. It will be awkward and painful, and I'll be waiting for the other shoe – the douchy, possessive one that tried to pressure my fifteen-year-old self into sex – to drop. I stand up, and Bill's eyes flick to my left hand.

"You're engaged?"

"Yup."

He snickers, and I bristle. "As long as it's not to that tall guy you brought home. He looked like a dick."

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I sigh. I don't know what it says that he remembers Eric, three years later. "It is. See you later, Bill." I jog up the aisle stairs and out the door before he can utter another word, and I'm already dialing Eric as I walk outdoors.

"Northman's Den of Iniquity, what's your fantasy?"

I giggle, feeling my mood lighten. "You will never guess who was in my class."

"Is this part of your fantasy, 'cause you're going to have to fill me in here."

If only he knew how far off the mark he is on that. "Bill."

There's a beat on the other end of the line. "Bill is your fanta-"

"_No_! God, no. Bill was in my class."

"Bill, as in, your high school boyfriend Bill."

"One and only."

"Aren't you glad my high school girlfriend is dead?"

"That's a horrible thing to say!"

"Not in the sense that she's dead, but in the sense that we don't have to deal with her. Come on, aren't you even a little bit glad?"

"Let's focus here, okay?"

"Yes dear. I have many questions about this." I quickly fill him in with the information Bill gave me, and decide to treat myself to a venti caloric monster from Starbucks on my way home. "Huh. Okay. Do you want to hang up and talk when you get home?"

I pout, even though he can't see me and even though he has a good point since I'm fifteen minutes away from being home. "I need you to make me feel better."

"Are you telling me to take my pants off?"

"No."

"Oh wow, you really _are_ upset."

I sigh. "I'll be home in a bit." I hang up and ten minutes later when I let myself into our apartment, Eric is actually not wearing anything other than boxer-briefs.

"Seriously?"

He grins over at me. "I just got out of the shower. You can stop looking that disappointed, though I'd like to point out that a lot of women would be thrilled to see me in my underwear."

"I'm sorry." I deflate and drop my bag and jacket on the floor, toeing off my shoes in the process. On the couch where he is sprawled, I crawl between his legs and tuck my head under his chin. "It was just a huge shock to have the guy in front of me turn around and be Bill." Eric wraps his arms around my waist and tangles his legs with mine, pressing a kiss into my hair. "You're hairy." I wrinkle my nose and try to get away from the bit of chest hair tickling my face. In response, he kind of ineffectively shimmies into my face and I make a big show of gagging and trying to get away. He's really not hairy, but I like teasing him about it.

"I liked it better when you blushed around me. Now you're all cynical and unimpressed with my panty-dropping good looks."

I frown. "Eric, I'm really upset about this." Sitting up where I'm still situated between his legs, I shoot him a mildly disapproving look.

"What are you upset about? It's a big school, Sookie. He's obviously not in any of your other classes or you would have noticed, and it's one two-hours-a-week class. And you're over him, right?"

"Of course I'm over him. I had a crush on him eight years ago, and I've only seen him in passing since then. But he jumped at the chance to sit with me, and he didn't look at all surprised that I was there, which makes me think he saw it coming. And…" I drift off, not sure about how he's going to react to this next piece of information.

"And what?"

"He asked me to go for coffee."

"And you're not sure if you want to go."

"What, do you think I should?"

"I think you should if you want to have coffee with him."

"But you don't care if I go out with my ex."

"I _care_, but I'm not too concerned about it unless an hour of sitting next to him somehow managed to nullify our four years of being together." I sigh and look down at my hands in my lap, and he continues. "You think he's here for you."

"I think he's a dick, and if he decided to transfer in the middle of his degree, he didn't pick Vancouver just because of its mild climate and affordable housing." I roll my eyes and he laughs, knowing how much of a joke that is; housing in Vancouver is a pain in the ass.

"You think he wants to win you back?"

"I think I was always a bit of a trophy to him, because it was so easy for me to walk away from our relationship. And I think it says a lot that he remembered you after ten minutes of meeting you and three years later."

"So you think he want to win you back."

I laugh. "I think he's a meddling dick."

"Does he have any chances of winning?" he asks with humour in his eyes, and I lean into his chest to hold up my left hand.

"I think so," I nod, still admiring the ruby ring. Tilting my head up to grin at my pouting fiancé, I duck back down to place a series of kisses on his neck. When he groans, I snake a hand inside his underwear and smile at his reaction.

The following Wednesday, I'm once again in the lecture theatre, though this time seated in the opposite side of the room. I'm early, as is the norm, and so I'm left to bounce my leg and keep my eyes up front to avoid, as much as I can, Bill.

_Suicidal yet?_

Seriously? Fucking Eric.

_You are not getting laid until the wedding. If then._

_Why, did Bill win you over already?_

_I'm not talking to you._

_Who would you talk to, Bill?_

I flinch as someone brushes past me, and look up to find someone who is clearly not Bill. Whew.

_I hate you. _

I'm actually very grateful that he's joking around to keep my mind off of things, but I'm not about to tell him that.

_You're beautiful and I love you. Just tell him to back off if you want._

_He's not here yet. But thanks. I love you too._

_I'm making stuffed chicken breast for dinner, if you make it alive._

Now smiling, I tell him I have to go and tuck my phone away just in time to hear Bill's familiar voice greet me.

Fuck. "Hey Bill."

He settles himself into the seat and we make small talk until the class starts and I can ignore him in favour of taking notes. He doesn't participate in the discussions, I notice, and really seems more interested in watching me out of the corner of his eye. It's not until the class is over and I'm tossing everything into my bag that he speaks.

"You know, I'm seeing someone."

"That's nice, Bill." I raise a brow at him.

"I'm telling you because she's having a party this weekend, and I think you should come."

"You want your ex to go to your girlfriend's party?"

"So you will?"

"I didn't say that." I don't like this. "Is it on Saturday?" It's my coworker Selah's housewarming, and she's invited Eric and I. God I hope it's on Saturday.

"Yes."

I do my best to look sorry as I explain the situation to him.

"Ah." He's pissed, I can tell, but is trying to hide it. "Maybe another time then."

"Sure." No way in hell. I can't imagine a situation in which I'd be okay with hanging out with Bill, on his turf no less. "Well, see you on Monday, Bill."

"I'll walk with you. Are you heading this way?" he asks, gesturing towards the quad.

I have to head straight to work, which is inconvenient but I owed a favour to Lauren who called me this morning, in a panic about suddenly being forced to pick up her aunt from the airport for some reason or other, and I'd agreed to fill in for her until she could make it to The Keg. I'm grateful for it now though, because it means I have to walk in the opposite direction from my home, and therefore from the quad.

"Ah, no, I'm going to work." I gesture behind me and peace out as quickly as I possibly can, not caring that I'm being a bit rude. Quite frankly, I'm not too concerned with hurting his feelings considering his complete and utter disregard for mine in the past, not to mention that 'mine' bullshit he pulled three years ago, on top of the remark about my being engaged. He's just not doing too well, I chuckle to myself as I weave through the between-classes crowds. I have to jog to catch the bus, but it means that I can take my time walking from the stop to the restaurant afterwards. It's a twenty-minute ride, but it's a really gorgeous day out and the bus windows are open, letting in a cool breeze. Days like these are why I adore Vancouver, despite its horrible traffic. Fishing in what Eric calls my Big Bag of Everything for my iPod, I pull up the latest Adele album and do some window-shopping on Granville St on my way. Reaching The Keg, I hurry to the back and put my stuff away in my employee locker before wrapping my little apron around my hips and tucking my notebook in the front. Punching in, I peek into the manager's office to let him know I'm filling in for Lauren.

"Hey, boss."

Stan Davis, my tall, dark and nerdy-handsome employer looks up from some paperwork and frowns at me.

"Are you working today?"

"I'm just filling in for Lauren for a few hours. Something about her brother backing out of picking her aunt up from the airport."

"Huh. Well next time, make sure Lauren calls me and lets me know. I was hoping she could help out at the bar for Happy Hour." I can't mix a drink to save my life, which is just as well, since I'm a pretty kick-ass waitress.

"Right. Sorry, boss."

"Don't worry about it." He waves dismissively and offers me a smile. Eric hates him, because he knows I have a thing for green eyes and nerd glasses, even though Stan doesn't _do_ anything to aggravate him. Interestingly enough, he doesn't care if I swoon over Alcide's eyes.

In any case, I head out to the dining hall and pick up a section, earning myself a grateful smile from Selah.

"It's just starting to get busy. Thank god you're here. Where's Lauren?"

I quickly explain, and spend the next four hours serving up bacon-wrapped scallops and steaks. I don't get a break, because it's not even a shift, really, so by six o'clock I'm glancing at my watch every moment I can spare. I finally pick up on her curly mass of dark hair in my peripherals, and feel myself relax as I return a table their credit card and wish them a lovely evening. Filling in the rest of my tables about the shift change, I hurry over to where Lauren is waiting by the door to the back of the restaurant.

"Thank you so much for this, Sookie, I owe you big time," she gushes. I like Lauren; she covered my shift a few weeks ago when Eric and I went to visit my parents in Bon Temps, and she's really sweet as long as you don't push her buttons, which I tend not to do.

"It was no problem. Your aunt got in okay?" She did, and I bring Lauren up to date on all the tables before letting Stan know and punching out.

"Heading home?" Selah asks where she's having dinner in the back room.

"Oh yeah. Lauren just showed up."

"You look excited," she smiles, picking up on my energy as I pull off my apron and slip into my light jacket.

"Eric is cooking tonight," I grin in response.

"Ooh." She winks, and I laugh. "And speaking of your foxy man, don't forget about my housewarming this weekend!"

"Yes ma'am. Do you want us to bring you a present or food for the party? Because you have to pick one."

Selah thinks about it, tapping one French-manicured finger on her chin. "Hmm. A present, I think, if you insist."

"You got it. See you then."

I power-walk this time, but have to wait for the bus, which is not that big of a deal since this particular bus stops right in front of our townhouse after making its round through the university. It's just past seven by the time I get home, and I can feel my face break into a grin when I smell the food.

"You are perfect, and wonderful, and- Are you wearing my apron?" I can't help but burst out laughing.

"And boxers. It would be unhygienic otherwise." Eric's smile matches my own as he bends down to kiss my cheek. "But I also made crème brulee." It had shocked me, the first time I'd witnessed my mother teaching my boyfriend how to make dessert, but after four years and countless visits, he's become quite adept in the kitchen. He'd always been good at cooking, but I greatly enjoy the dessert thing.

"I am going to very depraved things to you tonight, Mr Northman," I promise, though my eyes are trained on the table he has set out, and the food yet to be served in the kitchen.

"Oooh," he winks, a twinkle in his eye. I really struck gold with him. We have dinner, then dessert, and afterwards we have the crème brulee Eric made. By ten, I'm ready to fall asleep on the couch but he carries me to bed and joins me under the covers.

"How was class?" my fiancé asks, meaning Bill, and I crawl into his arms to throw a leg across his hips.

"He invited us to a party." I pause for a beat. "Or maybe he invited me to a party. I didn't ask for specifics."

"What was your excuse?"

"Selah's housewarming. Try not to be too upset."

"You can hold me as I weep later."

I giggle and press a kiss into his chest. "We need to pick up a housewarming present for her though."

"Do you want me to pick something up?"

"I don't trust you to buy something pretty and appropriate," I admit.

"Geez, I was just trying to be helpful."

"I know, I'm sorry." I pout and move to lie atop his body. He loves it when I do this; it's to Eric what spooning is to me. My weight is reassuring, apparently, and now he expresses it by wrapping his arms tight around my naked waist.

I hum happily. "I love you."

"I love you back. You don't have to move; just sleep here."

I do as he says, and despite waking in the middle of the night to peel myself off of him, when his alarm goes off at seven-thirty his arms are wrapped around my waist. I groan and hide my face in the pillows, avoiding the inevitability of the morning even though my own alarm won't go off for another hour. Half-asleep, I listen to Eric shower and get dressed before padding to the kitchen to throw together his typical breakfast of a Nutella sandwich and orange juice. Twenty-two years old, and Nutella is still the only thing he has for breakfast on week days. He comes back a while later and strokes my hair, and I open my eyes with no small amount of effort.

"I'm going to work now."

Eric works for a shipping company now, doing manual labour which, on top of the higher salary, has given him some pretty killer arms. It exhausts him though, which is sad, but he actually enjoys the people he works with. Unlike the coworkers at the diner he used to work at.

On Thursdays, he has work from ten to six, which means that by the time he gets home he will be a worn-out mass of man vaguely resembling Eric.

"Okay. Have a good day, Hon."

"You too. Nutella kiss?"

I grin and rest my hand on his cheek when he bends down, rubbing at my eyes when instead of leaving, he watches me for a second. "What's up?"

"You just look really beautiful right now."

Grabbing a hold of his hoodie, I tug him down for another kiss and giggle when he drops one on the swell of my breast. I burrow back under the covers once Eric is gone, and refuse to acknowledge my own alarm until I'm dangerously close to being late.

Two days later, I watch as Eric pulls on dark-wash jeans and a beige Henley shirt in preparation for the housewarming. I put on a summer-y sleeveless dress with an elastic waist and flowers on the skirt, and a cardigan as a nod to the cooling September temperatures. My fiancé's eyes drag up and down my body appreciatively, focusing on my legs thanks to the four-inch heels I comfortably walk around in.

"Hey, you're almost as tall as me." Eric grins.

"Only what, seven inches shorter now?" I grin back and wrap my arms around his neck. We take a cab to Selah's apartment in Kitsilano, and Eric holds my hand as we walk up the flight of stairs to the first floor. Ringing the doorbell, I hand the gift bag I had been carrying to Eric, noting that he's looking particularly hot right now.

"You're going to get lucky tonight," I promise him, and his eyes light up as he leans forward to kiss my hair. The door opens at that instant, and we're ushered into Selah's tastefully decorated apartment.

"Hey! Come on in!" Selah beams as we join the rest of the guests inside. "Thank you for coming." We go through all the pleasantries, and Eric gives her the set of hand-carved chimpanzee 'see no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil' statuettes I picked up from The Tin Box the previous day. They'd been adorable, and I had fought the urge to buy the one-of-a-kind set for our own apartment. Left to our own devices when the doorbell rings after us, Eric and I begin mingling with the guests, and I quickly locate Lauren and her boyfriend. I've already had a glass of the surprisingly-strong punch when I hear Selah call my name, and turn around to find her making her way towards us.

"Sookie, Eric, I'd like you to introduce to my boyfriend." The man with his hand in Selah's catches up, and I get my first good look at him.

I promptly drop my drink.


	15. Chapter 12

A/N: Here it is, third chapter of the day! Once again, if FF stops letting me post again and you don't hear me for a while, check out my wordpress (address is on my profile). This story is coming to an end; there's only about three chapters left, so I'd love to hear you guys' reflections on the story so far!

* * *

_Chapter 12_

"Shit. I'm so sorry, let me-"

Thankfully, the drinks had been poured into plastic cups and mine had been almost all gone, so it's not too big of a deal that I've spilled punch on the hardwood.

"Oh, don't worry about it. Bill, honey, can you go grab us some paper towels?"

I shoot Eric a look, conveying what I imagine is a mix of horror, embarrassment and sheer irritation with the universe for doing this to us. Bill returns a moment later, and insists on mopping up the mess while Selah drags me away to pour me another drink, babbling about something or other. When I return, Bill has gone to dispose of the paper towels and Eric is making idle conversation with Lauren and her boyfriend AJ.

"Eric, have you met my friend Rob? He just got his MBA, that's what you're in, right?" Fucking Selah. I'm tempted to keep Eric around, but he shoots me this beseeching look and I let him go.

"You'll be fine," he murmurs, pressing a kiss into my hair and disappearing behind Selah.

"I'm glad you could make it, Sookie." I turn around to find Bill smirking at me.

"Did you know about this?" I ask Bill in what Eric calls my eerie calm voice.

"About what?"

"That I was coming here, that you're dating my coworker."

"Of course." The look he gives me, that condescending look, takes me back to the tenth grade when I had used to find it enigmatic, somehow. Now I find it fucking infuriating.

"What do you want from me, Bill?" My tone is cutting enough that we get a few looks from some of the guests.

"Let's go somewhere a bit more private," Bill suggests, grabbing my arm and directing me out to the balcony where our view of the inside is obstructed by the pulled curtains. It's dim out here, and a little cold now that the sun has fully set, and I wrench my arm out of his grasp.

Bill's nostrils flare in anger. "Who said I wanted anything from you?"

"The last time I saw you, you were an asshat. I haven't seen or heard from you in three years, and suddenly you show up in my class? Suddenly you're dating my coworker?"

"Coincidences, I'm sure."

No such thing. Suddenly, I realize something I should have picked up on before. In a small town, it's really not hard to figure out what everyone is up to, even if they no longer live there. I'm sure my mother hasn't shut up about my grad degree or my brand-new fiancé, and if Bill took the last couple of years off of school, it's not too crazy to assume he spent a fair bit of time in Bon Temps. My parents wouldn't mention it to me, knowing how I feel about him, but word probably got around to him regarding what I've been up to. I have this sudden, paranoid thought that he has done all this to get me back. I dismiss it instantly.

"You're a jackass, Bill. You always were. I don't know why you picked this time to barge back into my life, but I don't really care either. Stay the fuck away from me."

"Are you seriously still holding a grudge against me? We dated eight years ago." His once-handsome face is distorted with anger.

"No. I'm not angry that you were a terrible boyfriend, or a rude jerk to me and my fiancé. I don't even care about this party thing you managed to pull off, but my past experiences have taught me that I don't want to be around you. My life is fine without you, and I don't see a need to add you to it."

"Why, are you threatened? Can it be that your _perfect_ life with your _perfect_ fiancé aren't as perfect as you let on?"

"Feeling threatened would imply you have anything over me, and you don't, Bill. My 'perfect fiancé', as you call him, makes me happier with a single gesture than you managed to do through the entirety of our relationship."

His dark eyes narrow for a moment, but he hides his frustration. "I want you back."

"You know what, Bill? In the past eight years, not once have I considered what my life would have been like with you. I don't want you, and even if I did, I'd be disgusted that you're doing this when your girlfriend is thirty feet away. As it is, I'm only disgusted that you're doing this when my fiancé is thirty feet away, so I guess you have that going for you." I watch his jaw tighten as he grinds his teeth, and then he spins on his heel and storms away. Leaning against the balcony railing once he's gone, I rest my face in my hands and take several deep, even breaths. Eventually though, the cold gets to me and I head back inside. The party is still in full swing, and for the first time I notice soft music playing in the background. There's about twenty people here, which is a fair amount considering the size of this place, so I'm not too concerned when I don't immediately see Eric anywhere. Instead, I catch Stan waving at me and head over there. We chitchat for a while, about not much at all, until the sound of a commotion attracts our attention.

"What the…" I murmur and frown, as Selah and a few other people hurry through a door, and the former hurries back out a moment later to head straight to the kitchen. The sounds hadn't really been very loud, mostly covered by the hum of conversation and the music, but I make my way towards the door with a growing sense of unease, and find myself in what appears to be Selah's bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the blue comforter is Bill, blood all over his face, and standing a few feet away being held back by AJ is my fiancé. Selah breezes past me with a towel and an ice pack, both of which she applies to Bill's face while I turn my attention to Eric.

"Let go," he mutters to AJ and the other man does so immediately. AJ is tall, about Eric's height, which is the only reason he had been able to hold Eric back in the first place. What I want to know is why exactly he had needed to be held back in the first place.

"What the hell happened?" I ask, alternating a glare between Eric and Bill.

"Your wonderful fiancé punched me," Bill snaps, and Selah frowns at him.

"Do you guys know each other?" she asks us, and I'm tempted to punch Bill myself for not telling her.

"Bill and I grew up together," I explain.

"In Bon Temps?" Her brows furrow even further, and we both nod, and I go to take Eric's right fist in my hand. His knuckles are bloody, though not bleeding too profusely, and I quietly tell him to go wash his hand. I can tell he doesn't like being told what to do, but I shoot him a look that sufficiently convinces him to do as I say.

"Thanks, AJ," I say once Eric has walked away.

"No problem." He nods. "I was walking past the door and looked in and your man was going for his second punch there." I sigh, and shake my head, but thank him again before turning to Selah.

"Selah, I'm so sorry about that. Trust me, I'm going to find out what the hell is going on, and I'm sure Bill will fill you in later." I shoot Bill a pointed look, and he scowls at me over the ice pack covering half his face. "We're going to head out now. I'm so sorry again." Outside of the room, I knock on the bathroom door to make sure Eric is inside and tell him to meet me by the door. In the meantime, I say my quick goodbyes to the people I know and grab Eric's light coat from the closet. He meets me a minute later, and I wordlessly lead us out of the apartment and to the curb outside where I finally call for a cab. I don't look at him, not once, nor do I speak. He does the same, leading me to believe he's angry too, which fuels my own anger. What the fuck does he have to be angry about? The cab shows up ten minutes of silence later, and we continue this vocal embargo for the duration of the cab ride.

"What?" I say quietly once we're inside the apartment, and I've kicked off the heels to rub at my feet. He sinks down on the other side of the couch to regard me.

"What are you asking?"

"What the hell happened?" He scoffs, shaking his head at me, and I bristle. "And what the hell were you doing in that room with him?"

"Talking," he responds, stubbornly holding back any extra information.

"About?"

"Things."

"Alright, well if you're going to act like this-"

"You don't need to know," he interrupts.

"So you're protecting me?"

"Yes."

"I don't need you to. You're pissed, you punched him out at a party, and I'd like to know what he told you to get from point A to point B, Eric." He gives me a long look; this has been a topic of much discussion, him 'protecting' me, and I know he's going to give in. I'm right, of course, and he begins speaking with his defiant air.

"I told him we needed to talk, so we went to the room, and he told me you were his, had always been his, and would always remain his. I laughed it off, told him to get a grip, and that pissed him off."

"What did he say to you?" I have a terrible feeling about this, and he takes a deep breath before meeting my gaze head-on.

"He told me about the first time you blew him, and the first time he fingered you, and a bunch of other graphic firsts he knew would piss me off. And then he told me that he was going to get you back, and that you guys had kissed."

"_What_?" I can feel all the blood rush away from my face, and I waver a little bit where I'm sitting. "You didn't believe him, did you?"

"The two of you disappeared for twenty minutes."

"I was going to yell at him so we went out on the balcony." I scowl. "It's not like I walked away from you."

"I couldn't find you."

"And that was enough for you to believe him? Not seeing me for twenty minutes is enough to shake your faith in me?" I can only hope my expression is conveying just how hurt I am right now.

"If I'd had a minute to think about it, I wouldn't have believed him. But I was annoyed that you'd disappeared with him, and then he began telling me all that disgusting bullshit about how talented your mouth was and I just snapped." I wince a little, at the mouth thing, and bury my face in my hands. Bill had been the first guy I'd blown, and I'd had no idea what do, though I had learned pretty quickly. Eric loves it, so I guess I can understand his unhappiness. Moving on the couch, I throw my legs across his lap and lean into him when he wraps an arm around my shoulders.

"What were you yelling at him about?" he asks quietly.

"Everything." I chuckle wearily. "He told me he wants me back, and I told him off for doing it when you and Selah were both right there." Thinking about the words I'd said to Bill, I add, "Not once have I regretted us breaking up. I can honestly say I have never wondered what would have happened if I'd stayed with Bill. I mean, I thank God I didn't fuck him, but that's about the extent of the time I spare for him. Well, before Monday, that is." Eric laughs a little bit, and rests his head on mine. "I haven't given you a single reason to feel threatened by him," I continue, and lift my head to look at him. "Not a single reason. You let him play you like a violin, even though you have so much over him, when it comes to me. Not that you'd be a big enough tool to throw it in his face, but you do. I can't decide if I'm hurt or angry that you let him get you so worked up over something that's not even relevant to our lives."

"It wasn't about me thinking he meant something to you. I'm not jealous of what you had, because I get that it doesn't hold a candle to what you and I have. It just made me angry that he was talking about you that way, because even if you had kissed him – which I realized you hadn't the second my fist contacted his face – he had no right to talk about you that way."

I smile, tilting my head away from him. "You were protecting my honour."

"Something like that." Eric smiles back, and nuzzles my hair.

"It's sweet of you to do that, but just watch the line between being chivalrous and being a caveman, okay? Punching him out in the middle of his girlfriend's housewarming was not necessary."

"I knoooooooow." He draws out the vowel so that it sounds like a bit of a groan, and hides his face in my neck. Quite quickly though, his goal changes and he pulls my hair away to press kisses into the skin below my ear.

"Baby," I giggle and shiver when he bites lightly.

"You look so hot tonight," he murmurs. We haven't had sex in a couple of days, since he was exhausted on Thursday and I was exhausted on Friday, and I did promise him that he'd get lucky tonight.

"Will you go down on me?" I whisper, and he grins into my skin before sliding off the couch to dispose of my panties. Guiding both my feet to the edges of the couch cushions, Eric ducks his head to nuzzle my inner thighs, and I pull my skirt as high up my legs as I can to watch him. Quite expertly, Eric's lips and hand bring me to orgasm, twice in rapid succession, before I swat his hands away and beg for a moment of reprieve. He smirks, until I push him down to kneel between his legs and unzip his pants, easing my mouth around his cock. Leaning back on his elbows, Eric watches me – mouth agape – as I suck him off, and when he finishes I swallow to look up and grin at him. He's gorgeous like this, legs splayed, head thrown back and his eyes shut as he pulls himself back together. I rub my hands up and down the denim over his thighs, and move forward to capture his mouth. He nuzzles my face, and drops down on the carpet to ease my dress over my head and toss it away. I move off to get rid of my panties, and he takes the opportunity to do the same to his shirt and lift his hips so I can tug off his bottoms. When I straddle his body, he quickly unsnaps my bra and then it's just us, kissing and touching until I can feel him ready again.

"You're going to get carpet burn," I giggle.

"Wall sex?" He quirks a brow

I have a better idea, and help him up before leading him to the couch where I kneel on the cushion, one foot planted on the floor and both hands on the armrest. Having our own place had made us so creative with sex; before, in res, we were limited to desks and beds, walls if we felt like it, and floor if carpet burn seemed worth it. Within a week of moving in together, we'd had sex dozens of times and only once on the bed. Even now, two years later, we still prefer most other things to the bed. When we finish, Eric falls back onto the couch, a comical picture of contentment and exhaustion, and I crawl on top of his body to kiss him.

I don't see Bill in class that Monday, despite my best efforts to locate him and make a point of how little I approve of his actions. The next day, I walk into work and am greeted with a small wave from Selah. We haven't talked since Saturday, and I immediately feel horrible for not having called her before today.

"Look, Selah, I just want to apologize again for what happened on Saturday. I don't know what Bill told you, but we used to date and I ran into him last week in my class. I had no idea you guys were dating. We've never been on good terms, ever."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," she smiles a little bit. "We broke up." Oh. I have no clue how to react to that; good for her because he's a psycho who told me he wanted me at her party, but somehow I feel like she might be displeased with me for that reaction.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." I'm dying to ask if it had anything to do with Eric and I. "I hope it wasn't because of me."

She shrugs. "I mentioned your name probably half a dozen times; he was there when I put the list of people to invite together, and he asked me about you because he 'found your name interesting'." She makes air quotes. "I decided I didn't trust him. He was kind of a dick when we were arguing, and I dumped him."

"Selah, I'm so sorry. If I'd known-"

"It wasn't your fault." She gives me a look like she can't fathom why I'd be sorry.

"If you don't mind me asking, how long were you guys together?"

"A couple of months, give or take. And if you don't mind me asking, what did he say to you? I'm assuming you talked."

"I don't know if you'd want to-"

"I deserve to know, Sook."

I sigh. I hate this. "He um, told me he wanted me back, and I told him off. I mean, we dated, briefly, when I was in the tenth grade, and I've seen him once since I left Bon Temps." She nods but doesn't say anything, and I feel the need to ask, "Selah, are we okay?"

"Did you seduce my now-ex-boyfriend?" she asks.

"No?"

"Did you do anything to encourage his feelings towards you?"

I have no idea what's going on, but shake my head. "No."

"Then we're okay."

We both smile and hug it out, before heading out to get to work. I work mostly on autopilot, too deep in thoughts of Bill to really keep track of the time, and it's not until Lauren nudges me to ask why I'm working half an hour after my shift is done that I snap out of it and finish up with my tables. It's pretty much dark out, and I hurry to the bus stop, cursing myself a little bit for missing the bus I usually catch after my shift. I send off a quick text to Eric so he doesn't get worried, and grin when I walk in to find the lights off and a set of tealights and rose petals trailing towards the bathroom. Calling out Eric's name, I drop off my things in the closet and proceed to find him sitting on the floor by the filled tub, reading his well-worn copy of _Fight Club_.

"Hey." He grins, looking up, and scrambles to his feet to kiss me hello. And not a peck either, a full-on lip-lock.

"Did you draw up a bath for no one?" I tease, noting that if the smell is any indication, he has used my favourite Lush bath bomb.

"Funny."

"Oh no don't tell me, reading _Fight Club_ got you in a romantic mood."

"Now you're just being mean." He pouts and I stretch up on my tiptoes to wrap my arms around his shoulders.

"Thank you." I know he did it because of the past week, and because of the missed bus thing. Letting him undress me, I frown when I realize he has no intentions of joining me. "What?" I frown, not understanding what he's telling me.

"I already showered," he smiles and nudges me towards the tub. "This is for you." When I still resist, he just scoops me up and places me in the warm water.

"Please join me?" I pout and treat him to my puppy-dog eyes. "Pleasepleaseplease?" Narrowing his eyes, Eric strips and slides in behind me in the tub to wrap his arms around my waist. I hum happily and lean back against his solid chest, but not before turning to kiss his cheek.

"I was going to be the sweet, considerate fiancé and draw you a bath and sit by you to talk." He murmurs into my hair.

I giggle. "Did you flip through my _Cosmo_ again?"

"Yup. You just had to ruin my sweet act of the year by being all clingy."

I burst out laughing, and splash him, crying truce when he splashes me back.

"So, Selah dumped Bill."

"Wow. I guess that's for the best."

Understatement of the year. "Yeah. She deserves so much better, and he deserves a dirty whore with questionable sores and something that'll make his dick fall off."

Eric sucks in air through his teeth and I twist to raise a brow at him. "I'd say that was a little harsh, but mostly I'm just glad that you love me."

"That, and I'm hoping to utilize your family jewels at some point in the future. I'd never wish them ill." I grin as he laughs. We towel off when the water has cooled, and crawl under the covers attached at the mouth and soon-to-be attached somewhere much lower. I giggle when I observe that he smells like jasmine and that his skin is kissably soft, thanks to the bath products he tossed into the water. When I tell him this, he chuckles and buries his face in my neck, and soon all thoughts of bath bombs have been replaced with much happier thoughts. When we finish, I suggest that I be big spoon for once and he laughs but rolls over, allowing me to throw a leg over his hips and fall asleep. Wednesday proves to be entirely Bill-free as well, and I begin wondering if he has transferred out of our class or if he has just been avoiding me. I'd like to think that he has just moved to Shanghai or somewhere else equally far, but I'll settle for a class transfer. The day turns out to have lulled me into a false sense of security, however, because the following day, as I leave my class, I get a call from Eric telling me that he is in Emergency.

**Eric**

It had taken a fair bit of tinkering, but I had managed to schedule all my classes on Mondays, Wednesday and Fridays, leaving Tuesdays and Thursdays free. I work both days, of course, but Tuesdays I can sleep in before my eight-hour shift, until about eleven-ish, so when I was awoken at nine by the insistent pounding on my door, I was quite prepared to kick some ass if it meant getting to go back to bed. I'd swung the door open and narrowed my eyes as I saw who had dared interrupting my precious sleep time.

"Bill? What the hell are you doing at my house?" I'm getting kind of alarmed, here, which rapidly grows into full-blown anger when his fist makes contact with my nose. My own fist, perhaps on reflex, returns the favour almost instantly, except my hit reduces him to a writhing pile on the floor while I note that based on the blood gushing out of my nose, he has managed to break it.

"Eric, dear, are you okay?" I look over the railing to find Mrs Bellefleur in the backyard, doing some gardening and looking panicked at what has just happened.

"Yeah," I wipe my mouth with my sleeve and grimace at the blood. "Mrs Bellefleur, did you see him punch me?"

"Of course! Do you want me to call the police?"

"No-no, it's okay." As long as I have a witness that he committed assault and I was just acting in self-defense. I crouch down to be at eye level with Bill, who has managed to sit up, his eye already darkening. "Listen to me, you fucking shithead. Sookie is not _yours_. She was never yours, and she sure as hell won't be yours because she's with me. She picked _me_. I don't know what let you think you could pop in eight years later and try to woo her back in your own douchey way, but it's not working."

"You think she'll stay with you after punching me out like a Neanderthal?"

I laugh, stand up for a moment, and when I crouch back down my foot is firmly planted on his hand. "Well I have a witness who will testify that you assaulted me, and the only reason I'm not going to press charges is because I don't want to endure your pathetic existence in my life for any longer than I can help it, William. Whoops, did I step on your hand?" I add loud enough for Mrs Bellefleur to hear, and shoot her a smile where she's still frozen and watching me with her wireless phone in her hand. Standing, I offer a hand to Bill, and he eyes it angrily before hoisting himself up with the help of the railing. I continue, "We're spending the rest of our lives together. You're just a footnote in her life, so get the fuck over yourself and find someone dumb enough to stay with you. And get off my property before I call the police." I stand there, watching as he walks down the stairs and around the house to the street, keeping an eye on me the whole time.

"Eric, honey, I'm so sorry. He said he was a friend and I told him you lived upstairs." The poor woman looks like she's about to cry.

"It's alright, Mrs Bellefleur. Um, I think I should go to the doctor." My nose is still bleeding, and apart from hurting like hell, I'm actually starting to feel lightheaded. I call Alcide, since he lives nearby, and he picks me up ten minutes later.

"Shit, what the hell happened?" He eyes me as I buckle myself in.

"Sookie's ex is a raging douche," I seethe, glancing at my reflection in the rearview mirror and wincing, which sends a bolt of electricity to what feels like the core of my brain. "Fucking hell, this hurts." And it's still bleeding a bit.

"Isn't he like, 5-foot-9? You have what, seven inches on him?"

"Shut up. I opened the door and he socked me." Like the coward that he is.

"Where's Sookie?"

"In class." I check my phone; forty-five more minutes. "I'll call her when she's done." Alcide waits with me in the Emergency waiting room until I'm waved inside and x-rayed, and told to wait some more. Sookie's class is over by that time and I dial her, tensing in anticipation of her freak out.

**Sookie**

I spend a fair bit of time in the car, yo-yoing between anger and worry. Anger at this whole situation; at Bill popping in out of nowhere and acting like we had more than a fleeting teenage relationship nearly a decade ago, anger at Eric for doing anything at all to stoke this fucking fire. And worry, of course, because my fiancé is in the Emergency room – though apparently okay – and because Bill knows where we live which, at this point, is more than a bit alarming. I text Alcide when I reach the hospital and he meets me in the waiting room, letting me go inside since there's a one-visitor limit. Eric's nose is being bandaged when I find him, and his face breaks into a grin that almost instantaneously switches to a grimace.

"What happened?"

He quickly fills me in and I sigh as the nurse finishes up and reminds him to fill his prescription for painkillers before telling him he's good to go. Back outside, he thanks Alcide and we part ways, the two of us heading home. I'm too deep in thought to notice I'm giving Eric what could be misconstrued as the silent treatment, until he comes out and asks me if I'm mad at him.

"What, no." I shoot him a sidelong look at a red light. At least the bandage is small – the break is more of a hairline fracture – because the bruising is rapidly spreading to his eye. It looks so heart-wrenching. "How's the pain?"

"Painful," he smiles.

"We can pick up your prescription at the Shopper's," I say, making the necessary turn. At the house, our path is intercepted by Mrs Bellefleur who wants to make sure Eric isn't dying, and we have to reassure her ten times over before she'll let us climb the fire escape to our apartment.

"Will you please just yell, because this quiet thing is disconcerting." Eric sinks down on the couch with the Shopper's Drug Mart bag, fumbling with the pill bottle.

"Why would I yell at you?" I hand him a glass of water from the kitchen. "He punched you, you punched him. I'm sure you were an asshole, which is entirely justified. I'm beyond pissed at Bill, but I'm not about to yell at _you_." I sink down next to him, smiling when he tucks his damaged face against my neck and throws a leg over my knee. "Are you really okay, Baby?"

"Yeah, just sore. And pissed."

"I really knew how to pick 'em, huh?"

"I don't know. Quinn wasn't too bad."

This is true; we actually ran into each other a few months ago and ended up having coffee. He's engaged, and the light in his eyes when he'd talked about his fiancée had reconfirmed – for the thousandth time – that we had been settling, staying together. He had come to same realization, if the way he hugged me goodbye was any indication at all.

Eric and I spend the following week on edge, waiting for more shit to hit the proverbial fan and wondering if we should be taking any more drastic actions along the lines of restraint orders and address changes. We do, however, pay the fee to have our names and other info removed from the YellowPages, which seems a bit useless at this point, but we figure can't hurt. And so we wait on baited breath until I talk to my mother on the phone, almost two weeks later, and she mentions in passing that William Compton do I remember him was apparently attending UVan briefly but he dropped out for some reason or other to move back to Bon Temps oh and am I going to come home for Thanksgiving this year or not?

I sigh, and share the news with Eric, before confirming that yes, Eric and I will both be coming to Bon Temps for Thanksgiving, but not for Christmas, which we'll be spending in Osoyoos.

We don't really see any more of Bill; I keep an eye out for him, just in case, in my Ethics class as well as on campus in general, but there's no trace of his whiny, douchey self. Eric and I fall into the habit of asking the other if there's been any sightings of him, every time one of us has a class on campus. I think the scariest part is not knowing why Bill popped back in; it seems so extreme to think that he did it all for me, but all signs point to just that.

Eric's nose heals, ever so slowly, though he misses a week of classes out of sheer vanity, and I let him have it without a single teasing word. I hate that my asshat ex broke his gorgeous face, but he's a sweetheart about it, not once expressing any of his anger to me, instead choosing to take full advantage of my guilt by asking for tea, his favourite foods, and blowjobs.

At the beginning of October, we pack up the car and head to Bon Temps to spend Thanksgiving with my parents. I had kept the whole Bill drama from my family, but the unmistaken bruise on Eric's face is a bit of a dead giveaway, and we find ourselves discussing everything over dinner as my mother looks on in horror and Crystal makes a comment about her own broken nose having been much more severe, even if you can't really tell. You can totally tell. Eric and I exchange a look, and I'm pleased to see he's on the same page as me. I ask my mother if there's been any more news of Bill, and she tells me that he's rarely in town, having inherited the family estate after the passing of his grandmother a week ago, and instantly using it to buy a house in Banff.

Pretentious douchebag.

That night, we crawl into the pullout in the basement, full for potentially weeks, and lay facing each other on our sides.

"How's your face?" I ask quietly, letting my fingers ghost over his bruise. He catches them and presses a kiss into my palm.

"It's fine. I think earlier I scratched my cheek and bumped it, so it's hurting a bit."

"Do you want to take anything?" I move our clasped hands and clutch his against my stomach.

"Nah. It's not a big deal." He smiles over at me. "I don't want to jinx it, but it looks like our Bill problems are over."

"Well, he _is_ living it up in the Canadian Rockies, so maybe he'll forget all about what a hot piece of ass I am."

"I doubt he'll forget _that_, lover." He grins like he knows it's going to get him laid. I'm so easy. I doubt Eric minds though. The next day, we wait until the afternoon before getting back on the road, out of sheer laziness. It's another several months, however, until we stop being uneasy and stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.

**June 2018**

**Eric**

I graduated with an MBA in April, and was almost instantly hired by the business firm I'd been working for as part of my co-op program. I'd been assured, months beforehand, that I would be, but it was still a relief when I received the job offer and accepted instantly. Sookie started working at a small clinic, an all-around wellness institution-something with everything from an OB/GYN to an alternative medicine guy with an open therapist position, in November. She loves it, and I love her, so we're happy.

And now, we can finally get married.

We've talked about it, practically nonstop since I proposed four years ago. We've considered all the possibilities, from a big white wedding to eloping to Vegas one weekend. It would be quite a trip, down to the States. I can't imagine her in a poofy white dress with a lot of fluffed up tulle, but she fucks with my head for a full day, telling me that it's the only way she'll marry me. I catch on when she tells me I have to wear a top hat, and then she laughs at me until she has tears running down her face and that's when it finally hits me.

There's never been anybody else.

Alcide tells me I'm no fun, because all I ever do on the rare occasion when he manages to drag me out to the bar is text Sookie. When I tell Sookie this, she starts texting him incessantly when we're out, just to piss him off and make any potential girls get the vibe that there's somebody waiting for him. They're sort of hilarious together, my fiancée and my best friend. The first time they'd met, before the coma and everything, I watched Sookie's eyes take him in and then look at me. _What, you weren't sexy enough, you had to make friends with another sexy guy?_ she had teased. _We move in packs_, I'd confirmed, deadpan. I appreciated that she admitted to me what she thought of Alcide, because it let me know she had nothing to hide. Alcide himself has no qualms against reminding me often that Sookie is the real deal, and that he wishes he can find his own version of her.

I'm sticking with my original version of my gorgeous country girl.

**Sookie**

After four years of wedding hypotheticals and changing our plans because of things we want to avoid, we say _fuckit_ to the whole wedding thing and get married at City Hall, on June 18th, with only Felicia there as our witness. I splurge on an absurdly expensive white layered silk organza gown from BCBG and Eric wears black dress pants and the fanciest white shirt he's got under a vest, and I try not to cry when he slides the platinum ring onto my finger. The inside is engraved, he shows me beforehand, with the words _För Evigt, Min Älskade_ engraved in a flowing script, and I hear Felicia quietly thank god that she put on waterproof mascara that morning. I have to share her sentiment as we say our vows quietly, unable to tear our gaze away from the other until we're finally announced husband and wife and his lips are on mine. Alcide's filthy-rich dad insists on hosting our reception at one of his smaller restaurants, so we have quite a bit more freedom with the guest list for that. _Chez Herveaux _is a boutique-y sort of place famous for the quaint French items on its menu, and on the night of our reception it's decked out in snow-white linen and lit with modern light fixtures. There's even a makeshift dance floor created especially for us in front of the mahogany bar, which is offering free drinks, and the food is the best the restaurant offers. It's a beautiful reception, and we thank Mr Herveaux profusely, which elicits various eye rolls from Alcide when he isn't too busy hitting on Felicia.

"Are you okay with this?" I ask, indicating where Eric's two best friends are dancing and he shrugs.

"They're adults. I'm not going near that whole situation with a ten-foot pole, and if they fuck it up and come crying to me I will have no sympathy, but they can make their own choices." I suppose that is the best way to deal with this. After all, the sexual tension between the two has been going strong since the first moment they met, many years ago. It had always been a bit scary, watching them interact whenever one ended up in an always-brief relationship with a third party, yet neither Al nor Flick would ever admit they care about the other. Things have been getting more intense lately though, since I'm almost certain Flick was the reason Alcide broke up with his girlfriend of six months a few weeks ago. Their barely-there relationship is not at all what I want to think about tonight, however, as Eric leads me back to the dance floor after our brief break and takes me into his arms.

"Good," I say. "Because I really wouldn't have been happy if you became preoccupied with something other than what I'm _not_ wearing under this dress."

"You appeared commando in front of our Justice of the Peace?" Eric raises a brow though I'm definitely feeling his interest much lower.

"Are you complaining?"

"Not at all. We're just going to have to keep dancing for a bit longer, if you don't mind, Lover." He winks and I wrap my arms around his shoulders.

"You're perfect, you know that, right?"

"I try to be, for you." His smile is soft and if possible, I fall even more in love with him.

"You don't have to try," I smile back and stretch up to reach his lips.

"I did, at the beginning. You remember? When you didn't even want to go out with me, I wanted to make sure I was what you wanted because you were what I wanted. You were perfect." I stop dancing and let my arms slip under his jacket, around his waist.

"What, hey, what's this?" He wipes a tear away with his thumb. "What did I say?"

I shake my head, my eyes darting around to make sure I'm not making a scene. "Nothing. It just hit me all at once. I just, I never thought I'd have this. Not with someone I really loved who loved me back. I just didn't think it'd happen."

"Why not?" My husband – I feel a thrill every time I think of him in those terms – seems genuinely curious. I lead us over to the bar and ask for a glass of champagne.

"I guess I was a bit of a cynic. I figured I could find contentment but not love, not like this anyways, with us being head over heels." We're both silent for a moment before I add, "I never thought I'd say this, but thanks for being so confident that I would agree to go out with you. Even if you were a cocky bastard." I grin when he laughs and taps me on the nose.

"You say the nicest things to me, my love."

"But you know I love you. It makes up for it."

"It does indeed."

At that moment, our attention is drawn to the front of the room where Flick is standing on the makeshift stage with the band, a mic in her hands.

"Excuse me, everyone." The low thrum of conversation dies down, and since the string quartet has already fallen silent, Flick is left to speak. She has already made her toast, so I shoot Eric a curious look that he doesn't return, leaving me more confused than before.

"I'm sure most of you know about Eric's 'secret' ability to sing and play the guitar," she uses air quotations and smiles around the room as the guests chuckle. It's a bit of a running joke among all of our friends, Eric's musical talents and his unwillingness to display them. "So even though it usually takes a _lot_ of begging before he'll agree to sing in front of an audience, tonight he will, of his own volition, sing a song dedicated to my good friend and his brand-new wife, Sookie."

"What?" I murmur as he shoots me a smile, gives me a quick kiss and heads to the makeshift stage.

"Hey everyone." Eric adjusts the mic stand, having taken a seat on the high chair and accepting his guitar from Flick. "First of all, I just wanted to thank you all for being here tonight, and to thank Mr Herveaux in particular for being so generous and giving us this wedding reception as a gift." I catch Alcide rolling his eyes again and hide my smirk, choosing instead to applaud with everybody else. "Secondly, I'd like to remind you all that I'm the groom, and you're not allowed to boo me, no matter how much you hate my singing." He grins, winking at me, and I call out 'marry me, Eric' like the typical groupie. Eric mimics holding a phone to his ear and mouths 'call me', eliciting more laughter from his audience. Throwing the strap over his head, he tests the tuning of the strings and begins to play.

It takes me all of two seconds to realize he's playing _Won't Stop _by OneRepublic, the song I had always lightheartedly said I wanted playing at my wedding. Behind Eric, the violinist from the band joins in and I watch, feeling my love for him swell in my chest. I love that he did this, and that he kept it a surprise from me, and it's all I can do to keep from bawling my eyes out. He's transposing the high parts down a bit of course, since his voice is lower than Ryan Tedder's. The not-crying thing begins to look a bit like a losing war however, especially when he sings the bridge staring right at me.

_Take this hand, take this heart._

_Stir my bones, from a thousand miles apart._

_It feels so cold without you, like it's ten shades of winter,_

_And I need the sun._

Once he's done, I walk right up to him on the stage and place the mother of all kisses on his gorgeous lips. There is applause, and more than a few catcalls and wolf whistles, but he ignores it to kiss me back. There are definitely tears on my face now.

"I love you."

"Love you back." I pull back, sniffling, and he smiles to carefully wipe the tears away. "Did you like it?"

"I did. I would be crying much harder if I wasn't worried about ruining my makeup." My husband puts the guitar back and kisses me before leading me off the stage. Behind us, the band resumes playing.

"You are _soooo_ getting laid," Alcide winks obnoxiously, having approached us with Felicia in tow, and I punch him with a laugh. We take our seats for dinner and kiss a million times to satisfy the glass-clinkers, slipping each other some really obvious tongue to get some laughs. I shriek when Eric threatens to smush cake in my face – the gorgeous, gorgeous fondant-covered three-tiered cake with delicate cherry blossoms – and threaten _him_ with divorce should he mess up my makeup. We're out by nine-ish, heading to the honeymoon suite we have booked at the Plaza. Inside, my husband takes me into his arms and we kiss until I'm lightheaded and have to break away. Even then, he continues peppering kisses on my neck, murmuring quietly that he thinks I'm beautiful, that I take his breath away, that he loves me so much. I realize, as his fingers nimbly unzip the gown and let the silk pool at my feet, how rare a gift it is to be with someone who knows you better than you know yourself. I've loved him for so long, it may be clichéd to say I don't remember what it felt like to not have him. I know the feeling of his lips on my skin better than anything. I unbutton his vest and shirt, and push them both off to pay homage to his sculpted chest even as my fingers take care of his pants and let them drop to the floor.

"You're so sexy," I grin. My toes curl when he sweeps me up into his arms and kisses me while carrying me to the king-sized bed. Crawling atop my body, he makes sure to kiss every inch of my waxed and tweezed and exfoliated skin on his way up to my lips. When he cups me between my legs and waggles his eyebrows at the complete lack of hair there, I can't help laughing at his goofy ass, and cup his face when he leans to kiss me.

"You know, as much as I love it when you do that, I feel terrible at the same time."

"'Cause it hurts like a bitch?" I grin, grabbing his ass.

"Yeah. I almost feel like I should get waxed too, just to even things out."

I pull back from his mouth to raise both brows. "I don't know how I'd feel about that. Although, if you're offering…"

"We could chalk it up to an experiment in morbid curiosty."

"Well, I'll admit, the feminist in me thinks it's your turn to take one for the team," I grin and capture his lips again. My legs wrap around his waist, ankles crossing in the air.

"We'll discuss it another time, when I haven't spent like six hours wanting you." I can definitely feel that, and I reach down to stroke him, biting my lip.

He growls. "You're perfect."

"You're perfect." I wink. "I want you so much right now," I add in a whisper and he groans as he pushes inside.

"You're so wet."

I moan and clench around him, reminding him of how promised to break his record for the number of orgasms he gave me after his proposal, four years ago.

"How many?" he asks now, thrusting experimentally and I squirm to get more.

"Five that day, and four the day after." I'd kept track, for these purposes.

"Done."

Eric breaks the record – stomps all over it, really – until the sky lightens and we practically lose consciousness.

888

It's a few days later, when I hurriedly check the pockets of his pants before I hand them over to the dry cleaner that I find the crumpled piece of paper. I recognize it instantly, and tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans before heading home. We won't be going on our honeymoon yet because of our shaky financial status, what with Eric having just gotten out of school, but we'll both be home for the next week or so, just being us without the added burden of work.

My husband of three days is making dinner when I come home. The slow cooker is filled with chili, and there are buns warming in the oven while he sets the table. It's all very domestic, and I can't help grinning as I wrap my arms around his naked torso because, oh yeah, he's only wearing boxers.

"Hi," I whisper into the warm skin of his back.

"Hey there." He turns around and lifts me up to the kitchen counter, a few feet away. I tug the piece of paper out of my pocket and hold it up.

"I found your vows."

"Oh yeah." Smiling down at me, he pushes my hair out of my face and rests his forehead against mine.

"I didn't cry the first time around, but reading it again?" I chuckle a little bit, even as the tears start falling.

"Whoa, hey, don't."

"Oh, nonono, ignore these tears." I fan my face with my hand. "These are pointless tears. These are I'm-pretty-sure-I'm-getting-my-period tears." He laughs a little bit, still unsure about how to react. "I love you. I lovelovelove you, to tiny little pieces. I love that you think I'm perfect, and I love that you think _you're_ not. I love that you said you'd be anything for me, even though I don't need you to be anything other than this. This," I gesture around the kitchen, "domestic, cooking-dinner-in-your-underwear you. The you who married me, that's the one I want to keep, want to have babies with. Alright?"

"You want to have babies with me?" Eric asks, a grin lighting up his features.

"Yeah. We talked about this, didn't we?"

"We did. I guess it just didn't click that we can do that now."

"We can. Would you like to practice? I'm sure the food will keep."

"It will. And I would, Mrs Northman."

888

I get it framed, the piece of paper with my husband's vows scribbled on it. It sits on my vanity table, next to the photo of Eric kissing my neck on a camping trip a couple of years into our relationship. I read it so often, practically every morning as I get ready, until I have it memorized. The day I realize I can recite my husband's vows from memory, I smile and crawl back into bed next to the sleeping Eric. With my smoothest eyeliner, I write out the last line onto the back of his bare shoulder. Satisfied, I slide out of our bed and head to work.

That evening he shows me the words I wrote on his shoulder, no longer scrawled with makeup in my handwriting, but rather inked permanently into his skin.

I bawl.

* * *

_I can't promise you anything for sure. I can't promise that I won't ever make you cry, because I might, and I can't promise that I won't ever piss you off to the point where you make me sleep on the couch. I can't promise you perfection, because _I'm_ not perfect._

_But you are. You are perfect, and not just for me. You were perfect that first day when you walked into my life, and you're perfect right now, standing in front of me, ready to marry me._

_So for you, I'll try to be perfect, because that's what you deserve. And because I love you. That's the only thing I_ can_ promise you. I'll love you forever, Sookie, and I swear to God, I'll do everything in my power to make you happy, for as long as you let me._

_Because you're everything. And for you, I'll be anything._

* * *

A/N: If you're interested, here's a link to the engagement ring: https:/www[dot]artdecodiamonds[dot]com/images/products/2241_


	16. Chapter 13

A/N: Another update? Has she lost her mind? I may have. I just don't see a point in sitting around with the chapters ready to go, so here is your fourth update in two days. I am writing two other stories as of now, that may or may not end up being posted.  
There are two more chapters and two outtakes that I may combine into one post left of this story.

Thanks to each and every one of you who reviewed; I got some particularly lovely ones this time around that made me 'awww' out loud, so thanks! Keep 'em coming =]  
Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 13_

**December 2020**

**Sookie**

"_Fuck_," I hiss, tossing the pregnancy test into the wastebasket and burying my head in my hands where I'm perched on the edge of the tub. My whole body is tense and I try to suppress the urge to cry, but soon my jeans are damp with my falling tears. It's been three months, three months of us trying and three months of me hiding the frustration and sadness I feel every time I get one line instead of two on the damn stick.

"Sook, you in here?" Eric's voice travels through the bathroom door and I hastily wipe at my face, checking my hands for smeared mascara.

"Yup," I call and open the door, my eyes on the carpet.

"What's wrong?" Eric asks instantly and I hide my frustration at how very little gets past him, when it comes to me especially.

"Nothing." My sniffle potentially makes my words less believable. My husband sighs and pulls me to sit in his lap on the bed.

"Did you take another secret pregnancy test?" So he knew. Why I even bother to hide things from him is beyond me. I'd known how much he hates seeing how upset I get, so I'd just stopped telling him I was taking one. I nod, more tears filling my eyes and he wraps his arms tight around me.

"That's it. I'm drawing a line." His voice is gentle, but firm in his resolve.

"What are you talking about?"

"This constantly thinking about whether or not you're pregnant; frankly, it's not working for me. You're always upset and preoccupied and, to be quite honest, it's changed how we have sex and I'm not okay with it."

"So what are you suggesting?"

"No more keeping track of your cycle like our lives depend on it. No birth control either, but no actively trying. That's not to say we won't try if the mood strikes us, but no more having sex for the sake of getting you pregnant. We just stop forcing things and let nature take its course."

"What if it doesn't happen?" He knows what I'm talking about; what if there's something wrong with one, or both, of us? What if we can't get pregnant?

When he speaks this time, his voice is soft. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. We have no reason to think so, so let's not worry about it until we have to, okay?"

I consider his words, and think about what it would mean. He's right, this hasn't been working. We haven't had sex just because we want each other in a while, mostly because any potential lust has been squashed by us having regular, practically scheduled sex. I even told him that I don't care if I finish when we do the deed, which was probably the biggest red flag for him that I'm losing it.

"Okay," I nod at last. "I think I can do that."

"Good." His smile is so wide, I can't help but return it and he kisses me tenderly. "Now will you please get ready? I want to be on the road by nine, your parents are expecting us by three, at the latest." And I still need to make sure all the Christmas presents are in the car and ready to go.

"Yeah. Shower with me?"

"Yeah." We both make a point of not instigating sex, smiling shyly at each other every time our hands chastely skim over any and all erogenous zones under the warm spray. I still can't help pulling him down for a deep kiss just before I shut the water off and we step out.

We're supposed to spend Christmas Eve and Day with my parents, before driving back on Boxing Day to spend New Year's with our friends in Vancouver. It's good to be home in Bon Temps, after the six-hour drive, and I hurry to embrace my parents as soon as we pull up to the old farmhouse.

"Hey you two," my mom grins, pulling my husband into her arms. Eric returns the embrace enthusiastically, kissing her cheek and wishing her a merry Christmas. My husband adores my mother, even if he tries to hide it. I think it has something to do with her giving us plenty of time to have sex when he used to visit, as a teenager.

"Merry Christmas, daddy." My father gives me one of his trademark bear hugs before releasing me and leading us all inside from the cold. Inside, we're greeted by my brother, his baby mama Crystal, their daughter Olivia, as well as my cousin Hadley and her husband Remy. Their little boy, 5-year-old Hunter, runs as fast as his little legs can carry him and launches himself into my husband's arms, screaming "Uncle Ewic" as he does. I would be inclined to think that Hunter loves him because of his height, but then 'Ewic' catches Hunter and ruffles his hair, and I hide my smile at how wonderful he is with him. I join my mother, Crystal and Hadley in the kitchen, the four of us catching up as we work together. I'm not really a big fan of Crystal, but Jason loves her despite her attitude problems and her tendency to be a bit of a snob. She has very little to be a snob about, in my humble opinion, considering she's a high school graduate from a trailer-park family who got knocked up by my brother at a Halloween party. Regardless, I put up with her, and focus on Hadley whom I haven't seen in far too long. She used to be my best friend as a child, since we're about the same age, but we've grown apart in the last several years. We still get along really well, I discover as she makes me laugh hard enough to be forced to sit down during a hilarious recollection of Remy's bumbling apology for having missed their anniversary. Grabbing a seat, I wipe the tears of laughter from my eyes and Hadley shoots me a wink before going back to mashing the potatoes. Meanwhile, the guys do as my mother tells them, fetching wine from the cellar and the good china from the attic, all with minimal grumbling. Eric gets to entertain Hunter and two-year-old Olivia, going so far as to fetch crayons and paper for them to draw on. I try not to let it get to me in light of our earlier conversation, and reward him with a kiss on my way from the bathroom. An hour or so later, when my mom is busy showing Jason what the right kind of wine for Christmas is, Crystal has snuck away and Hadley is in the bathroom, I feel Eric's arms wrap around my waist while I'm keeping an eye on the peas. He kisses my cheek and nuzzles his face in my hair.

"What's up?" I smile.

"How are you doing?"

"Good, why?"

"Okay with what we talked about this morning?"

"I think so." I shut off the heat and move the pot to a trivet before twisting in his arms. "I'm just not used to feeling so helpless. I mean, there's nothing I can do to make sure it happens." Crystal pops into the kitchen to grab Jason's cellphone off the counter and I pause, not wanting to advertise to my family that we've been trying. God knows it's hard enough, what with all the small children running around this place and the pointed looks my mother keeps shooting me.

"I know, it's part of your type-A personality," Eric smiles and I smack his shoulder. "But it'll happen for us, I promise you. We'll do whatever it takes, but there's no reason right now to think it won't happen."

"I know, I know." I rest my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "It's just that, I always knew I wanted this, so it's frustrating that now that we're _finally_ both out of school and in a good place, it won't just happen."

"It'll happen for us," he insists and I incline my head.

"How's babysitting?"

"Fun," he grins like he too is a child. "Hunter drew a picture of me. I'm taller than the house."

"You might as well be," I giggle and then reach up to whisper in his ear. "I want you."

"Because I was babysitting?" He raises a brow.

"Because watching you with kids makes me want to make them with you. In an entirely pressure-free manner, of course." I grin, proud of myself for having listened to him.

"Then I guess we're having pressure-free sex tonight."

"Merry Christmas."

My mother barges into the kitchen at that point, chattering to Hadley about the pies and the glazed carrots and god know what else, so Eric gives me a kiss and bows out.

Later, my dad is charged with the responsibility of carving the turkey while I play with Olivia, sneaking her a bit of whipped cream off a pumpkin pie that she promptly smears on my shoulder, giggling. Eric notices my interactions with her and offers me a small smile that I return. Soon, my mother is ordering everyone to take a seat around the table and Eric is seated next to me, his hand rubbing my thigh before he asks me if I want the sweet potatoes. I indulge in an extra slice of cherry pie for dessert, feeling like a burden has been lifted from my shoulder thanks to the fantastically handsome man next to me. Or maybe it's just the wine. Dinner is fantastic, as always, and I kiss my husband on the cheek before getting up to help my mother clean up. Within half an hour, we're all lounging all over the living room, watching _Elf_ at little Livvy's insistence while Hunter complains about wanting to watch some movie with talking fish. I'm curled up in Eric's lap, sipping on some eggnog, and we let the lively conversation shared by the others wash over us. It's almost midnight by the time everyone leaves and it's just my parents and us until tomorrow morning when everyone will be back to open the presents piled under the tree. A little tipsy, we stumble to the newly renovated basement where my mother had prepared the guest room for us and we crawl into bed after consecutive detours to the bathroom. I snuggle into Eric's side, looking up at him as I let my hand stroke over his bare stomach under the comforter. He grins down at me, and I stretch up to kiss him. Letting my hand drift further down and under his boxers, I wrap my hand around him, noting that he's already half-hard.

"You sure your parents are asleep?" He asks between kisses, "I feel like they're going to come down any minute and we're going to get in trouble."

"Only if they catch you awkwardly groping me," I grin and quickly slide my own shorts off to move to straddle his hips. Ridding me of my tank top, he asks, "As opposed to expertly groping you? There won't be any trouble then. I'm quite adept at groping you, Lover."

"Oh I know." Rubbing myself along his length, I feel my own wetness spread onto him. I'm not in the mood to tease, so I lift up my hips and guide him inside me in one fluid motion, sighing as my body stretches to accommodate him. Eric makes a little noise and his eyelids flutter shut as his hands momentarily tighten on my hips before his gaze locks onto mine. I begin rocking my hips against his, experimenting with the angle and depth until I've found my rhythm. I kiss him, feeling like I need more than one point of connection with my husband. I've missed him, so very much, even though I hadn't realized it, but it's not long before I have to pull back and slap a hand over my own mouth. Eric's fingers tweak my nipples a little more roughly than usual and I'm done for, squealing into my own hand and setting off his orgasm. His mouth shapes a perfect O and he squeezes his eyes shut, a groan wrenching itself from his chest as he unloads inside me. Letting my head fall back, I take a deep breath, half-heartedly rocking my body into his as I ride out the aftershocks before sliding off of him.

"Hi," I giggle and can see the amusement in his eyes.

"Hi yourself." I peel myself out of bed to clean up and bring a damp washcloth back for Eric. We settle into each other's arms and I lose myself in the feel of him stroking my hair, falling asleep not long after.

I wake up early at the sound of the front door opening and Jason's voice wishing someone a merry Christmas. Nudging Eric awake, we share a quick, entirely non-sexual shower and emerge warm and alert to see Hadley and her family have already arrived as well. The scene from last night has been recreated, minus the eggnog buzz, and we all pitch in to help with breakfast. It takes us all barely any time to rip through the food, and then the presents, and soon we're drowning in a never-ending sea of wrapping paper. The rest of the day is spent lazing around and enjoying some family time, as my patience with Crystal grows thinner and thinner. By late afternoon, Eric is stroking soothing circles onto the back of my hand as she rants about the irrelevance of post-secondary education. A look around confirms for me that she's the only one lacking in that department; my mother was an English teacher for years, my dad has a degree in business management, and even Jason managed to make it through his Bachelor's. Hadley and Remy met in university, just like us, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint I possess to not ream her out for being so damn ignorant. Hadley earns herself gold stars by launching into a speech about how irresponsible one would have to be to get pregnant without meaning to, especially by a one-night stand, and at a point in time when there are so many means of contraception. My dad is laughing so hard he has to feign a coughing fit and excuse himself from the room, while Jason meekly keeps his daughter occupied with the age-appropriate doll Eric and I got her. Seeming sufficiently chastened, Crystal huffs and takes Olivia from Jason's arm to play with her. Several hours later I enthusiastically hug my cousin goodbye with many congratulations on putting Crystal in her place while my grinning husband shakes Remy's hand and invites them down to Vancouver before crouching down to bump fists with Hunter. Crystal stomps out, leaving Jason to apologize on her behalf in a shocking display of sensitivity as a sleeping Olivia rests in his arms. We turn in early, wishing my parents a last "Merry Christmas" and heading down to our impromptu bedroom. I'm so weary from holding myself back that Eric offers up a back rub before pulling me into his arms to fall asleep. The next morning, we're packing up the car once again to head back to Vancouver.

"You know, I love your parents, but I'm glad to be home." Eric plops unceremoniously on the bed.

"I know. I think it's just Jason and Crystal; I still don't know how they're still together." I join him in much the same manner. "I'm a horrible person, aren't I."

"A little bit," my husband laughs and I snuggle close to him. Making a noise of contentment, he drapes an arm over my waist and tugs me closer to bury his nose in my hair. I've gotten him a pass for ten snowboarding lessons in Whistler this winter, something I know he has always wanted to do but never quite gotten the chance for it. In return, he gave me a book of coupons, redeemable at any point, of things any woman wants her husband to do. I'd raised a brow reading through some of them, like the more playful ones calling for permission to wheel in a guy at a bar, on which he'd coolly commented, "Over my cold, dead body, Lover." In addition to that, he'd bought me a gorgeous delicate leaf-design diamond necklace that is currently hanging from my neck. Now, he absently traces the pendant where it's nestled against my collarbone and moves to kiss it. Moving to lie on my back, I close my eyes and I'm smiling when I feel his lips brush mine. Still not looking, I reach out to rest a hand on the side of his face and tug on his earlobe playfully.

"You're so beautiful," he sighs, kissing along my jaw, his hand resting chastely on my abdomen.

"I ruv roo," I pout, smiling at the eyeroll it instigates.

"See, I create a nice moment and then you go and ruin it by talking like Scooby-Doo."

"Hmm," I giggle and pull him down for another kiss before curling up at his side for a nap.

Six weeks and a missed period later, a blood test confirms that we're pregnant.

**February 2021**

"So you think it was the time at Christmas?"

We're driving home from the doctor's office, both riding on the high of _finally being pregnant_.

"I hope so, it's a much better story than if it was the time before when I didn't even let you finish me," I frown. I didn't like to think about my potential children as the result of orgasms, but how sad would it be if our first conception didn't even feel good for me?

"Or New Year's Eve?" Eric grins. We'd both been sloshed ten ways to Sunday, me on far too many Long Island Iced Teas and Eric on the gin and tonics Tray had kept feeding him.

"I don't think babies like drunken, dirty sex."

"This baby's daddy liked the dirty sex."

"I'm sure he did. But no more drunken dirty sex for another eight months." And not even then, since I'll be breastfeeding.

"What about sober dirty sex?"

"I'll think about it." I'm bluffing; I enjoy our fucksex as much as he does. _Sober _fucksex will be something for me to get used to though.

"Perhaps I shall convince you." We pull into the garage and he opens the door for me, bowing with a flourish when I thank him.

"Perhaps you shall," I grin and he swoops me up, heading to our bed where he deposits me. He tugs my fitted jeans off with a gleeful expression, tossing it over his shoulder and moving on to my pink flimsy thong. Raising a brow, he stretches it experimentally and shoots me an approving look.

"Eric," I giggle. This is going to be playful sex. I love playful sex. Stripping, my husband jumps back on the mattress, landing on his knees and causing me to bounce where I'm lounging back on my elbows. Unbuttoning my blouse, I undo my front-clasp bra and wink, licking my lips in what I hope is a wildly seductive fashion. He growls a little and nudges my knees apart, giving me a lingering look.

"Oh _baby_," he moans overdramatically.

"You're an ass, get over here!" Laughing, Eric drops atop me, bracing himself alarmingly close to my face with his hands. "_Jesus,_ Eric," I gasp.

"Sowwee." His lips gravitate towards my neck and he pushes inside me with a low groan once he realizes how ready I am.

In the end, playful sex is a lot like regular sex, which, after ten years, is still far from. We finish loudly and I scream his name, knowing he loves it. After, he directs me to lie atop his body, my head resting on his chest and the rest of me straddling him as we recover. I close my eyes, letting my mind focus on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat while his fingernails scratch up and down my spine, making goosebumps rise on my body and my nipples harden. I shiver and turn my face into his skin, letting my own hand drift over his chest and pinch his nipple. He jerks, gasping, and I soothe the hard bud with my mouth, which of course instigates another round. This time we end up with Eric's head on my stomach, kissing my belly button and listening for a baby that is, as of now, tinier than a bean.

"Do you want a girl or a boy?"

"I don't know. I think it'd be great to have a boy, because he'd be like a tiny you and I'd love that, but a girl would be fun too. She'd have you wrapped around her chubby little fingers and I could take advantage of that." I grin.

"Yeah, if she looks like you, I'll be screwed. I can barely say no to you, let alone a tiny adorable you."

"Are you saying I'm not tiny and adorable?" I laugh and he gathers me close to press his lips to my forehead. "What do you think, boy or girl?"

"I'm pretty much where you are. I can't decide between a tiny you or a tiny me, though of course I'm partial to a tiny me," he winks. "And with a boy, we wouldn't have to worry about assholes breaking his heart. Well-"

"Well," I say at the same time and giggle.

"Unless he's into boys," he finishes his sentence. "In which case, I guess I'd be rooting for a lesbian daughter."

"You're a saying you'd be okay with your daughter dating if she dated other girls?"

"I-… Damn. No." I shake with laughter and my husband lifts his head from my stomach to smile at me, dropping it once more when I stroke his hair. "I can't wait until you're massive and super pregnant-lady."

"When I'll be cranky all the time and you have to run to the supermarket at three in the morning to get me Twinkies dipped in orange juice?"

"Ha, yes. I just want to have a baby already."

"Alright, slow down now, buddy. I'm okay with putting off the whole people-coming-out-of-me thing for a bit longer."

"Right. I guess I've done my part of this baby thing until after you've given birth, huh."

"Jackass," I grumble.

"Yes dear," he sighs.

"Good, get used to saying that often in the next eight or so months."

"Yes dear." He laughs and this time, I can't help joining him.

888

I shut down the DVD and pout to myself. I'm horny. Not that this is anything new; I'm turned on pretty much all the time, and all it takes is one of those vague montages of suggestive angles on people's bodies in movies, and I'm climbing Eric like a tree. I reach over for a magazine and flip through it, except at about the point I start thinking about last night I decide there's just no point. He's two rooms away in the study, working, so I toss the magazine and head over. Walking in soundlessly, I bend down to kiss his neck, nuzzling my nose against his jaw.

"Hi," he chuckles.

"Hi." I unbutton his shirt as much as I can and snake a hand inside, feeling pretty darn pleased with myself when he releases a low groan and saves up all his work. "I want you." Turning around, he pulls me to straddle his lap. I love that we had the foresight to purchase a fancy office chair, so we could do this. He claims my mouth passionately while unbuckle his belt and take care of his pants.

"How long were you sitting out there trying to talk yourself into letting me work?" my husband asks with a smile, having discarded my shirt and then my bra.

"A while," I admit, moaning when his head drops to my breasts.

"God, these are amazing. I'm knocking you up again right after the baby is born."

"Well, I appreciate your appreciation of my pregnancy breasts." Boy do I ever. I throw my head back and moan loudly when he sucks, infinitely grateful that they're just sensitive enough for it to feel amazing. "Uh-uh, keep doing that," I order when he moves to mouth at the skin of my chest. He chuckles hotly and does as he's told.

"Tell me how you want it."

"Harder." I hesitate, feeling a bit unsure as I add, "Bite a little." His teeth go to work and so do his hands, slipping under the back of my yoga pants to squeeze enthusiastically. I reward him with another loud moan. I'm loud, for some reason, now that I'm pregnant. Eric fucking loves it, even though I feel like a bad porn star. He's practically bulging out of his boxers and I push it out of the way to give him a long stroke.

"Eric." Giving him a hard kiss, I move off to get rid of my pants before scrambling back to his lap, close enough to press my breasts against his chest.

"You're so fucking hot," he groans and I lift up long enough to guide him to my entrance and push down.

"You're huge." He really is. I had gone through a _Sex & The City_ several years ago, what with the fifth equally-mediocre movie having just come out, and it had made me put some serious thought into how lucky I'd been, that Eric was somewhere far beyond above average. Not that it would have made me love him any less if he hadn't been, but his package really added to the whole, well, package. And it had made him confident enough to chase me even after I'd put up a pretty good case against dating him, and how could I blame him for that.

Lifting me up, Eric carries me over to press me against the wall and thrusts in rapidly, his face buried in my neck. My hands scrabble at the wall, searching for some purchase as I arch my back and my world slows down as I come screaming his name. After his own finish, he carries the trembling sweaty mess I've become over to our bed.

"Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks with concern when I've still not spoken a word, several minutes later.

"I'm still just sort of in awe of how amazing that was," I grin over, crooking a finger so he will move forward for a kiss.

"You're just really quiet."

"That's your fault. You fucked my brains out over there," I giggle.

"Well if you're going to stroke my ego like that…" He waggles his eyebrows.

"I think past experience has shown that I more than just stroke your ego, Mr Northman." I waggle my eyebrows right back. And oh the things he does, with his ego.

"I'd say that at some point I'll get annoyed with your libido, but I really can't imagine why that would happen."

I frown. "Well, it's not _my _fault I'm pregnant and horny."

"I think I recall my involvement. And I'm more than happy to cater to your needs, Mrs Northman."

**March 2021**

"No way." Eric shakes his head, disbelief colouring his features. "Sook, we're… there's… _twins_?" I bite my lip, nodding and waiting for him to accept the fact. We're in the car, in the parking lot outside the doctor's office, and my husband hasn't formed a single coherent sentence in at least ten minutes. Turning, he seems to absorb the fact that I'm in the same boat as him. Or more accurately, I _am_ the freaking boat our children are housed in. Children. Plural. As in, not one. "This is crazy," he whispers, eyes wide and trained on my stomach. I'm just starting to show in that particular area, even though my breasts have had no qualms against brimming the cup, so to speak. Not that Eric is complaining.

"Okay, you need to stop panicking because if you panic then I'm going to panic and I can't because I have two people inside me." My eyes fill with hormone-induced tears and his eyes widen for an entirely different reason as he reaches for me.

"There's no panic." He pulls me awkwardly into his arms, over the hand brake and I slump into him, crying. "I was just surprised, Baby. So we'll have two kids instead of one; we'll figure it out, it'll be fine."

"Do you mean that or are you just saying it to calm me down?" I whimper and he chuckles a little bit, stroking back my hair and kissing my forehead.

"I mean it. And I'm hoping it'll calm you down." Another kiss. "Cheer up, okay? It's okay, we'll figure it out together." His thumb brushes away my tears and then rubs a bit harder to wipe away the smeared mascara. I sniffle and lean into his touch, kissing his palm and then stretching to kiss him.

"You're perfect."

"I know," he smiles.

"I want you."

His eyes darken with lust and I feel my breath catch. "And have me you shall."

He only speeds a little bit, muttering about having to be responsible now that he's got his "old lady and the kids" to worry about and I smile, watching him.

It's been ten years. It blows my mind that I've loved him, this handsome man sitting next to me, for over a decade. The restaurant we went to on our first date –that Eric's parents went to on _their_ first date – is still there; it's where he took me last October to celebrate our dateaversary, and I think about how big of a role it played in bringing us together.

"Do you think our son will take his wife to _Leonardo's_ on their first date?" I ask as he leads me to our bedroom. I sit on the edge of the mattress and my husband sinks to his knees in front of me.

"You mean our hypothetical son?" Eric smiles, kissing my collarbone. We won't know the sex of the babies for a few more weeks.

"Yeah. In a hypothetical future when he meets someone." I smile back and sigh in contentment when he pulls my loose shirt off my body and undoes my bra. My breasts thank him.

"And just knows she's the one? I don't know. It's gotten two generations of Northman men someone crazy enough to love them, so maybe." I giggle and let him kiss me. Afterwards, I drape a leg over his and kiss his chest, squirming when his finger drags up and down my ribs and waist.

"Did _you_ just know I was the one?" I ask, referring to our earlier conversation. His mouth presses into my forehead as he makes a noise in confirmation and I tilt my head up to look at him. "When did you decide you loved me?" I tug playfully on the Thor's Hammer hanging from his neck and he smiles at me. It was my gift to him, our first Christmas as a married couple.

"On our second date."

Frowning, I ask, "The volleyball game?"

"Yeah. You painted my face for me." I remembered that; I had sat in his lap and drawn two lines, one blue and one white, extending from his nose out and up over his cheekbones. He had looked ridiculous and I had told him so, eliciting a laugh that drifted off when our eyes had met and he had quirked a brow, so I kissed him.

"I stole your heart with some face paint?" I grin.

"Yup. I'm easy like that. When did you decide you loved me?"

I have to think about it for a second, to distinguish between when I actually loved him and when I _decided_ I loved him. "The first time you got in bed with me to wish me good morning before class." He'd started doing it – knowing that I would have to get up around the time he left for class – a few weeks after we started dating. Knocking lightly on the door, he would slide into my bed behind me and wake me up with a few well-placed kisses to my ear and neck. The first time, he'd knocked and I'd called out a disgruntled "come in" but lightened up the moment I noticed the scent of his cologne enveloping me. _What are you doing_, I had mumbled, smiling when his arms wrapped around my middle. _Wishing you good morning. I'll see you after class_, he murmured and, with a last kiss to my hair, snuck out. I had lain in bed for so long afterwards, trying to figure out how it was possible that I had fallen for him so hard and so fast. "That was always my favourite part, that you started every day by wishing me good morning. And then after a while, you'd say you loved me too, so that was an added bonus."

"That was how I knew I wanted to live with you," he seems to recall. "I figured if the first thing I wanted to do every morning was kiss you and wish you good morning, then there was no point in holding off on moving in together."

"And yet you held off on asking me for nearly two years." I laugh, turning my face into his flesh.

"Hey, you barely accepted when I asked you," he defends.

"Because you were all, 'We're breaking up in a year anyways so I think we should move in together'." I roll my eyes, having deepened my voice to mimic him. "I had to make sure you wanted to move in because you wanted more and not because you thought we had an expiry date."

"I just wanted you for as long as I could have you."

"I just can't believe you were willing to walk away."

"I wasn't _willing_." It's his turn to roll his eyes.

"You were willing to walk away if it was what I wanted from you," I correct and he begrudgingly inclines his head. "Thank you. Even though I didn't need that option, it means a lot that you were willing to offer."

"You would have done the same," he shrugs. I _did_ do the same; I don't know what I would have done if he'd said yes, but I wanted him to know that I would support him, no matter what.

"I think I need a nap," I tell him now and he obliges, spooning me when I roll over and covering us with the sheets. Under the covers, his large palm settles on my stomach and I feel his lips press against the nape of my neck before I let myself drift off.


	17. Chapter 14

Hey guys! One more chapter to go!

Your reviews have been wonderful, fantastic, awesome. They have filled me with glee, really =] Keep that up, will ya? I'm almost done here!

Lemme know what you think.

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_Chapter 14_

**June 2021**

**Eric**

_- I'm cheating on you. You no longer satisfy my needs._

I read the text over probably ten times, trying to determine the tone and level of seriousness Sookie has employed in sending it to me.

_- I beg your pardon?_

I figure that's neither here nor there, and hope she explains things further. She's about six months pregnant at this point, and knee-deep in her own mood swings. It's dizzying, how fast she can go from one end of the spectrum to the other: from giggling at a commercial to bawling because _Say Yes To The Dress _is "just so heartbreaking sometimes".

_- Amelia brought me a chocolate Danish. I'm pretty sure it's all I will ever need. You should get a hotel room, and grab your stuff later._

I chuckle, entertained by my wife's pregnancy humour. On my way home I pick up a huge boxful of a variety of Danishes and let myself into the apartment soundlessly to find no Amelia, and Sookie parked on the couch watching an old Ben Stiller movie. She has developed the biggest crush on him.

"Do I need to kick some ass?" I ask by way of greeting and she grins at me.

"We didn't mean to fall in love, it just happened." She holds out her arms and orders, "Come snuggle with me."

"I brought you some more." I set down the box, drop my jacket and briefcase, and do as I'm told.

"Aww, you're okay with me cheating on you?" Moving the box to her lap, I open it and let her pick one out. Her fingers drift over the pastries before settling on a cherry one, and I watch as she takes a big bite. Closing her eyes, she moans and her head falls back. "I like that you're condoning my decision to let myself get even more huge. It tells me I made the right choice in marrying you," my wife tells me after a few more bites and I grin.

"You have two people inside of you, I'd be worried if you were still tiny."

"I was never tiny."

"You were the tiniest it is possible to be and still be attractive," I disagree smoothly.

"So you don't find me attractive now?"

"I will always find you attractive."

"Good answer, Mr Northman. Now what do you say we take this to the bedroom, and you try and make me moan like that Danish just did?" I've been pretty much half-hard since her first bite, and our sex life has slowed way down in the past few weeks. I don't need to be told twice.

"How do you want to do this, wife of mine?" I ask after several minutes of foreplay. We're both panting, and I'm painfully hard from the weeks of imposed abstinence. She shoots me a sidelong glance as she considers our limited options and what she's comfortable with. We end up with me standing at the edge of the bed while she lies on her back with a pillow diverting her weight from her spine. I direct her legs together to rest against me, on one side because of the way she's laying, and carefully push in. She feels perfect; wet and hot and I have to mentally slap myself out of my pleasure-induced stupour.

"You okay?" She's making all the right noises but I have to make sure, before I proceed, since I have no interest in hurting her.

"I'm fine. Don't stop." I thrust in experimentally, figuring out my angle and watching her face carefully for anything that might tip me off to pain. It's all good, and I speed up my movements a little, still making time for deep, thorough strokes that have her gasping within minutes. It's not the perfect position by any means, since I can't lean forward and kiss her or mouth at her skin the way I would have pre-pregnancy, but it gets us what we both want, which is an orgasm. Afterwards, she crawls up under the covers and I lay on my side, watching her blink drowsily at me.

"I really needed that. The Danish really wasn't enough."

"Next time, just remember that I'm cheaper than a Danish."

"And you leave a better aftertaste in my mouth." She winks and I lean forward to capture her lips. "I'm impressed with your ability to even manage to get it up considering how huge I've gotten. This can't be attractive. Although, I suppose considering it was your little swimmers that got me into this, you better be prepared to get me off when I ask for it."

I have to roll my eyes. "Sook, just accept that I find nothing unattractive about the fact that you're pregnant with _our_ children. You're still sexy to me, and I will jump at the opportunity to, well, jump you." I laugh a little, and she giggles.

"Get over here and spoon me. I feel like I'm miles away from you like this."

Carefully clambering over her body, I say, "Kilometers. You meant kilometers. This is Canada."

"Oh, hush. You don't need to run your mouth to hold your wife."

"Yes dear."

"You've gotten pretty good at that," she observes, referring to my 'yes dear'.

"I get that from _all_ the girls."

"Oh, I suppose you do. Or used to. Why do I not know who your first time was?"

"Have I never told you?" I frown. "I guess I haven't. Her name was Ginger, and before you ask, no, she wasn't a ginger. She was blonde."

"Shocking." I can practically _hear_ her rolling her eyes, but I ignore it since it's true; I do have an undeniable thing for blondes.

"We weren't even dating, but her parents were out of town for the weekend and she invited me over." I'd cancelled on Flick to do it, and she hadn't spoken to me for a week. I'd been torn between the excitement of having finally had sex and having gotten my best friend mad at me.

"Were you any good?" She's probably the only person in the world who can ask me that without offending me.

"Nope. I think I lasted two seconds? Maybe three?" I join in on her laughter, letting my hand stroked over her swollen abdomen.

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen."

"Damn. The tenth grade? You were sexually active two years before me, and you're a year younger." She shakes her head and cranes her neck to shoot me a bemused look.

"Well, you got to reap the benefits of those extra years."

"The best spin put on my husband having been a slut before me. Well-played, Mr Northman. How many women have you slept with?"

I do a quick mental tally, pre-Pam and post-Pam. It's quite a number, and I'm not even sure how accurate it is since post-Pam, I'd pretty much been intoxicated in one form or another for days at time, so any memories of any girls during that time are pretty hazy.

"Uhm, plus you, Pam and Ginger, twenty … five?"

"_You've slept with twenty-five women?_" I wince at the pitch of her voice, opening my eyes only to recoil again when she speaks. "You slept with _twenty-five women over three years_?" Unable to roll over, she hoists herself up to glare down at me. "How many of them did you date?"

"Other than you and Pam? Uh, I didn't really have any girlfriends, do fuckbuddies count?" Apparently they don't because she starts hitting me with a pillow.

God I miss non-hormonal Sookie.

"_Ouch_," I exclaim when she gets me in the face and, more importantly, the eye. "Honey, stop."

"You're a _dick_, Eric Northman." She glares, red in the face and angrier than I've seen her since, well, I left the cap off the toothpaste last week. It hadn't gone over well.

"Sookie, I was a kid, it's not like I'm still a slut!" I would be chuckling in any other situation at that term, but right now, with the way she's looking at me, it almost hurts, since she's my wife and mother of my children and all.

"That's even worse! You were a kid with a complete disregard for people's feelings!" Another hit, a backhand this time, and I snap, jumping off the bed.

"It was after Pam died, okay? Before Pam, there was just Ginger and one other girl, and after Pam I kind of lost it. You know that, now can please calm down and _stop hitting me_?" She stops, her hand still clutching the pillow as she regards me for a long moment, looking awfully lost.

And then she bursts into tears.

I scramble back onto the bed, facing her side to wrap my arms around her, feeling like shit for making her cry. "Baby, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm just a dick, please don't cry. Please stop, please, just stop crying," I beg and look around like I'll find a solution written on the walls. I am such an ass; I know how hormonal she is, and I still had to go and yell at her when she was just venting, really. She has two tiny people inside her, for crying out loud.

"No, it's not you," she weeps, and I'm not at all convinced. "I'm sorry I had to go and be such a bitch about something you did like, ten freaking years ago." Wanting to make things better somehow, I stretch out my arm towards the bedside table and grab her a handful of napkins, which she uses to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. "You've always been perfect with me, but I had to go and freak out at you because you used to sleep around, and I can't even stop crying because I'm huge and crazy and _pregnant_." Placing a kiss into her temple, I stroke back her hair and let her lean into me.

"It's okay, let's just be okay, alright?"

"I'm sorry," she whimpers into my neck.

"I'm sorry too, but please just calm down, okay? You have our tiny people inside you." I grin at her, hoping that it's comforting, and it seems to work because she nods and takes a deep, shaking breath.

"I think I want a nap." She murmurs and smiles up at me, her face streaked with tears. "Will you hold me?"

I arrange the pillows around her the way she likes, and lay behind her to let her rest her head on my arm.

"I love you."

"Love you," I breathe into her bare skin, and splay my palm out on her stomach, chuckling at the swift kick I receive from inside. "I love you guys too."

**August 2021**

**Sookie**

My water breaks, a few days before my due date, as I lie in my hospital bed after over two months of bed rest. I've been a bitch for weeks now, feeling uncomfortable and massive, and wanting the babies _out_. My overall pleasantness does not improve at the thought of two babies pushing their way through an orifice that, before this day, has only accommodated much smaller appendages. I chuckle bitterly at the thought that it was one such appendage that got me into this in the first place.

Speaking of appendages that got me into this, Eric is of course not with me when I go into labour, but at work. There was no point in him missing work when I had no clue when the babies would decide to grace us with their presence, but I forget the logic of that arrangement as soon as the first _real_ contraction hits. I call him, as a nurse times my contractions, and try to keep my voice from shaking too much as I tell him to get his ass back to the hospital. When he bursts in a mere half-hour later, I'm fairly confident he literally dropped everything to come to me, and that makes me soften towards him and his stupid penis.

"Hi Beautiful." He grins, excited beyond words, and strides over to clasp my hands. My dignity has all but left the room, since my legs are spread and my babymaker is covered by a single layer of cloth that keeps getting pushed aside by nurses.

"My water broke. I'm not far enough along yet for the doctor to be here." I bite my lip; as much as the anticipation of being a parent is killing me, this waiting-and-contraction stage sucks.

"How are you feeling?" I'm glad to see he's calm, at least, because I don't think I'd be able to handle it if he panicked too. I'm losing it, internally.

"Relieved that they're finally coming, but scared too." I chuckle inadequately and he bends forward to kiss me.

"It's going to be fine, you'll do amazing."

"Shut up." I pout and he presses another kiss, into my temple this time.

"I love you so much."

"You better. Nothing will ever make up for this."

"But I sure will try," he promises, eyes smoldering in the time it takes me to punch his bicep.

"Don't you try to get on my good side, Eric Northman. This is your fault, and I won't forget it."

"You'll change your mind once your babies are here," Mira, the nurse, promises with a wink as she breezes in.

"I hope so. She used to love me." Eric sighs dramatically, plopping back into a chair and grinning at Mira, who blushes instantly. Rolling my eyes, I ignore the effect my husband is having on a pretty nurse while I lay, the size of a whale and splayed out in a flimsy gown, on a hospital bed.

Eric's sheer glee wears away as I grow more and more worked up, and my contractions grow worse and worse to the point where I'm grateful for a needle to my spine.

And I am. So grateful. I tell Eric I'm leaving him, for Dr Fick, who laughs as he packs up his stuff. My husband tells me he'll bring me the paperwork after I give birth, and I promise him I won't fight for sole custody. I can't feel the contractions anymore, just a strangely-disconnected pressure in my pelvis.

"I'm panicking about being a bad mother." I admit, needing reassurance as my breaths come in gasps and my hair sticks to my neck. "I mean, you're going to be wonderful and sweet, and you're the best husband ever."

"Sookie, you're already a good mother," he tells me, taking my hand, and that's the moment it hits me.

I am.

"I love the shit out of you," he tells me in our last quiet moment before it seems like everything picks up speed and suddenly, I'm pushing people out of my body.

**Eric**

Fifty-eight minutes of my wonderful, loving wife of over two years screaming horrible, cringe-worthy things at me, and finally we are parents.

Stella Adele Northman is the bigger twin, arriving first and weighing in at five pounds and six ounces, while her brother Alexander Noah Northman arrives seventeen minutes later and weighs three ounces less than her. I'm ordered to peer over the doctor's shoulder and count both babies' fingers and toes, and to report back to my very sweaty and thoroughly exhausted wife. Once Sookie has delivered the afterbirth – a process that I try not to pay too much attention to – and the babies are all cleaned off and bundled up, we are finally allowed to hold them.

"Oh god, look at them," Sookie whispers, not wanting to startle the babies who fuss every time they're more than a few inches away from each other.

"I can't believe you did that. Well I can, 'cause you did, but I can't believe you – Christ, you're just amazing." I shake my head, tearing my gaze away from Stella to grin at my wife who leans in for a kiss. We part and continue to stare at the twin in our arms.

"He has your chin. Like a tiny you, but with my eyes."

"They both have your eyes. Guess we know whose blue eyes are more dominant." I grin and let Stella grab my index finger.

"She has your nose." Sookie takes a closer look. "Christ, and your lips. We made really pretty babies, right? I'm not biased because I just gave birth, they're actually good-looking?"

"I'm not in a more subjective position, but yeah, I'm pretty sure we're going to have issues when they're teenagers. Except for Stel, she's my princess and I will kill any boy that touches her." I say the last part in a ridiculous baby voice and my daughter gives me a look like she can't believe how crazy her dad is. Apparently Sookie can't believe it either because she spares a moment to give me that same look. We switch babies after a while, gingerly to keep from dropping the squirming bundles, and settle ourselves with the other twin in our arms.

"I love all three of you so much," I murmur when Sookie bends forward to kiss Stella's tiny baby nose.

"We love you back." She grins at me. "I can't imagine doing this with anybody but you. You're perfect. I'm sorry I yelled those horrible things at you."

"Eh. Seeing them, after all this time, is kind of worth being threatened with never having sex again." I wink back and she bumps her shoulder into mine, her hands full of newborn.

"We made people, Eric. We made actual human beings who are going to grow up and become _somebody_."

"What will you do when they don't become presidents?" I tease and she disregards me in favour of cooing at our daughter. Alex, apparently needing some attention of his own, swings at my shirt and drools.

The next day, after our steady stream of visitors at the hospital has waned, we bring the twins home. The second bedroom was transformed into the nursery months ago, painted soft orange with a Dr Seuss theme, but for now Alex and Stella will be staying with us, in our room. I get my family – which has recently grown to twice its size – settled on our bed and go to locate some form of food that requires chewing.

"I can order us a pizza, or I can make you spaghetti?"

"Why don't you order in something healthier and then come back here and snuggle with us?"

I grin and order in some salads and some sort of grilled chicken from Boston Pizza, and return to bed to spoon my wife and watch our sleeping children over her shoulder. She giggles when I kiss her neck and drift down to her shoulder, brushing my thumb over her hip where it's resting.

"Are you attempting to initiate sex with me with our children in the bed?" she asks lightly.

"I'm attempting to initiate kissing my wife. How are you feeling?"

"Strangely empty." She rolls onto her back to touch my face. "It's just me in here now."

"I can imagine that feeling strange. But otherwise, how are you feeling?"

"Good. Sore, but content. Don't worry, I'm not going to be spiraling downwards into postpartum depression."

We talked about this, at length. We'd both read enough books and articles to know having a child is pretty much the biggest wrench you can throw in any well-oiled machine, the machine being our relationship. I'll admit I had been terrified at first, torn between the excitement of having a child – or two – and having my marriage fall apart. The last thing I wanted was to put so much into being a parent that I forget how to be a husband. Communication is key, apparently, which makes sense, and it starts with me knowing that the mother of my children is coping well with the massive changes her body underwent over the course of six hours after eight months of gradual change.

"You'll tell me if you no longer feel that way?"

"I sure will, Mr Northman, as long as you return the favour." She smiles, "But I'm assuming that you are feeling fine as well. Are you?"

"I am feeling incredibly fine, Mrs Northman." I smile back and bend down to kiss her.

Thirty seconds later, Stella's cries set off Alex's and the time for kissing is officially at an end.

888

It's hell, raising twins. I imagine it's like the sleep-deprivation, stress and sheer exhaustion of having a baby, times two. I can't imagine being a parent of more than two newborns, but every time Stella giggles and grab my nose or Alex fusses and reaches for me, I briefly consider begging Sookie to have more kids, right now, but then I remember how many diapers I've changed in the past 12 hours and change my mind again. I try to pick up as much slack as I can, when the babies start crying at two in the morning, and bring them to Sookie to breastfeed if she hasn't pumped for them in advance. I figure I have a lot to make up for, considering she was the one who carried them inside her body for eight months and then pushed them out of a tiny, tiny orifice. I would know. Not that I do anymore, or will anytime before Sookie feels comfortable with it. She received the medical thumbs up, physically, at our last appointment, but I know better than to think that's the same thing as her being psychologically ready. Until then, I don't instigate anything more than chaste kisses.

"Okay, confession time," Sookie whispers one night in the silence immediately following the twins being lulled into a milk-induced stupor. I tense, but indicate for her to continue. "I feel like you don't want to have sex with me anymore, because of, well." She makes a vague gesture in the dim light of our bedroom. I pause, realizing my mistake and looking for the best way to approach this without making her feel like she's crazy, because I understand why she thinks that way. I haven't exactly given any indication that I want her, so intent I had been on not making her feel like I was pushing for sex before she's ready.

"Sookie, I do. I just didn't want to make you feel pressured, and I wanted to wait for you to make a move."

"So, you do want to?" My wife asks hesitantly.

"Of course I want to, have you seen you?"

"You mean my flabby body and non-existent waist?"

"I meant your fantastic breasts-"

"Sore," she interrupts.

"-and your bedroom eyes."

"Bloodshot with lack of sleep."

"Right, then it must be your sparkling optimism," I tease and she backhands me in the gut. "Sook, the minute you tell me you're ready and we get a minute from this parenting business, I'm going to be on you like drool on a baby."

"I think the common saying is 'white on rice'." She laughs, quietly.

"Right." Last night, I dreamt the twins learned to change their own diapers. It's sad, the kind of happy dreams I _used_ to have compared to the ones I have now. I shared that particular dream with Sookie and we had spent five minutes in a longing silence.

"Eric?"

"Yeah, Honey?"

"I'm ready."

"Those words should not have made me hard."

She giggles. "Can you be quiet?"

"You want to do it now?" As much as my cock seems to be all up for that idea, the rest of me can't bear the thought of physical exertion right now. I'm shocked Sookie is up for it, frankly.

Moving closer, she leans forward to kiss my chest. "Nope. I just want to thank you, for your patience." Her hands slip inside my sweatpants to grip me. "Wow, you weren't kidding." I really wasn't. Two months, plus the six weeks before she gave birth. She could eat a banana and I'd be hard. I help her tug my pants down, and she strokes me slowly, mouthing at my nipple.

"Sookie," I hiss and she shushes me.

"You'll wake the babies." I suppress a groan and squeeze my eyes shut when she moves down to take me into her mouth. When I come, a few minutes later, she gives me a last lick and tucks me back into my pants to crawl into my arms.

We get our moment three days later, right after the twins drift off into their afternoon naps.

"Okay, I give it twenty minutes before shit hits the fan, and I wish that was less possible than it is to actually happen," she says, holding my hand as we practically run to our bedroom next door. I pull off her t-shirt and yank down my pants. We're fully naked within seconds, and I regard her like she's a glass of water in the middle of the Sahara.

"I've almost lost all the weight." She brushes a hand over her stomach.

"You look beautiful. C'mere." We crawl onto the bed and grin at each other.

"I want to be on top."

I imagine I look like she has just told me she's not into men. "Really?"

"No. Would I be that cruel?"

"I'd like to think not." I roll on top of her, loving that I can finally do this again, and she wraps her legs around me.

"If they start crying, there's going to be a bit of a mess happening here," she whispers, gesturing at her breasts.

"I know," I raise a brow.

"Just so you're not grossed out."

"I'm not grossed out. Do you want me to avoid them?"

She gives me a long look. "Not unless you want to."

"Alright then." I raise a brow at her. "I bought some KY." The doctor had said something about some couples needing lubrication. It had made her blush, but I appreciated the heads up. There is no way I want to do something to hurt her, and I reach over to grab it out of the bedside table. I toss it on the mattress next to us and begin kissing her neck, experimentally teasing her nipples with my fingers before flicking at them with my tongue. There is a bit of leakage, and I try to gauge her reaction, wanting to pick up on any negative feelings she may be having but she gasps and responds like she always did.

"Eric, I appreciate how careful you're going about this, but I haven't gotten off in three and a half months and you've got a very horny lady under you that you need to take advantage of." I sit back, to use the lube, and get back on top of her. "Kiss me," she orders and I do, slipping my tongue into her mouth as another part of her body welcomes a specific part of my body.

"Is that okay?"

"Oh god, yeah."

"You need to let me know if it's not, okay?"

"Mmhmm." She moans into my neck, tangling her fingers in my hair. I speed up experimentally, ready to pull out the moment she says so, if she says so.

"Oh god, Sook." Even though she got me off last night, this is what I had been missing; being inside her, feeling her hands all over me, her body around me. I'd missed the noises she makes, is making right now.

"I'm close." Me too, and I can barely hold myself together long enough for her to finish before I let go. Just in time too, because the babies start crying about sixty seconds later. Sookie moans, a decidedly different sound from the ones she had been making earlier, and I peel myself from the sheets.

"I'll get them." Stealing a kiss, I tug on my sweatpants and go to grab the little bandits. Stella's the one crying, and Alex is just starting to look weepy, so I take her to Sookie first before coming back for her brother.

"Thanks, Baby," she grins at me and accepts another kiss before letting me set up the pillows so she can feed both twins simultaneously, the two of them laying side-by-side like two knocked-over, squirming dominoes. I stretch across the bottom of the bed and watch the three of them. I love how content she looks, the way she looks at them and how they react to her.

"What?" She smiles.

"Nothing. You're beautiful."

"I do love me some Afterglow Eric."

"I mean it." I roll onto my back but grin at her. Her eyes flick down to my chest.

"Don't wear shirts, okay?"

"Ditto."

"Maybe once I get back to my pre-baby pants size, we can have a shirtless day."

"You look fine now. Beautiful, same ol', same ol'."

"You already got laid once today."

"Doesn't hurt to try for more."

"No, it does not."

We smile over at each other, falling silent as we let ourselves get lost in our thoughts.


	18. Chapter 15

A/N: The Swedish in this chapter (and chapter 12) was brought to you by Tess84, who was kind enough to not only point out a mistake in another story, but to also offer me help on everything Swedish. Thanks for the help, Tess! This one's for you =]

Having said that, this is the last chapter of _Someone Else's Heart_. I wrote this in December, so it has been that long in the making. Thanks to all of you who read and reviewed and made my day. You guys, well, made my day. I might write a sequel at some point, so keep an eye out for it, in the future.

I would love to hear any last things you guys would like to share about this story; now that it's done, what'd you think?

In the meantime, enjoy!

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_Chapter 15_

**August 2026**

**Sookie**

The living room is practically dark, the only light filtering in from the kitchen on the other side of the townhouse we bought just after the kids were born and spent so much time on to make into a home. I sit on the couch, my head buried in my hands as I think back to what suddenly feels like ages ago.

_"Promise me something," he had whispered, rustling the sheets to gather me, naked and sated, into his arms._

_ "What, Baby?" I had mumbled back, smiling when he hid his face against my shoulder blade. He was like a big cuddly teddy bear – or, he thought of me as one._

_ "Promise me that you'll never let yourself be unhappy, being with me."_

_ "What makes you say that?" I rolled over, frowning drowsily. My fingers traced the line of his jaw and tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear as I fleetingly wondered why he was telling me this on our wedding night._

_ "I know how easy it is to let a marriage slide. I've seen my aunt do it four times already," he chuckled dryly. "I saw how unhappy she would get, near the end of the marriages, and it was the saddest thing. I never want to see you in that place, especially not with me, because I love you so much. Promise me that you won't let us get away with letting our marriage fall to pieces, and I will promise to do the same."_

_ "So that we can get a divorce and get it over with?"_

_He laughed, actually laughed into my bare skin, having grown used to my little neuroses and tendency to jump to conclusions. "No. So we can work on our marriage. Did you miss the part where I said I love you so much?"_

_I rolled my eyes but then sobered. "What if you didn't love me anymore? What if you actually did want a divorce?"_

_ "If I want a divorce, it'll be because of me thinking that I can't make you as happy as you deserve to be."_

_ "And if you don't love me anymore?"_

_ "Well, if I don't love you anymore, then it won't really matter anyways because we'll have much bigger things to worry about."_

_ "We will?" I frowned._

_ "Yeah, I mean, that hit I took to my head must have been pretty severe, and the five hundred pounds you gained will have really jeopardized your health-" He couldn't continue because I had straddled his hips, tickling his sides to shut him up._

Glancing at the clock, I notice the time and groan, seeing that Eric is late again. I didn't expect anything more, really. The past months haven't been great, to be kind about it. As if sensing my train of thought, the door unlocks and Eric steps in, dropping his briefcase and jacket off inside the closet before noticing me.

"Hey," he calls quietly. "Where are the kids, is dinner ready?"

"They're staying with Amelia and Tray tonight." The twins had gotten so excited at the prospect of a whole Friday night-slash-Saturday morning with their favourite Aunt and Uncle. Alex had jumped up and down hard enough to annoy Stella who had quietly asked me if we could leave her brother behind. She was hilarious and sharp as a whip, our daughter, and absurdly insightful, while Alex was goofy and had a knack for dragging people out of slumps with a bright grin and a cute statement. It was so amazing, seeing the two tiny beings that used to live inside of me develop their own unique personalities.

"And I didn't feel like cooking."

"Oh." My husband sounds confused. "Is everything okay?" He sits down on our brown leather couch, bringing a knee up on the cushion to face me.

"No." Resting my head on a hand, I regard him, wondering if he's serious. Does _he_ seriously think we're okay? That this, this way of life, is okay? We've barely seen each other, barely had a conversation that ventured beyond the boundaries set by the necessities that ensure our children's wellbeing, in _weeks_. I can't even remember the last time we shared a brief, useless hello/goodbye kiss, let alone anything more. Let alone sex. And I miss him, miss the guy that made me laugh hard enough to make my abs hurt, miss the man that played catch with our son and obligingly allowed our daughter to dress him.

"We need to talk. And let me start out by saying that I'm not picking on you, that I'm not placing the blame solely on you, so please don't get angry. Don't yell," I exhale, realizing that if he does get angry, I simply won't have any energy at all to deal with it. "I just need to talk. If we're going to keep doing this, we need to talk."

"What's going on, Sook?"

"Do you-" I have to swallow down the sob that is rapidly approaching. "Do you even love me anymore?"

"What? Where is this coming from?"

I clutch my hands together, my fingernails digging into my skin. "It's coming from us barely having a single conversation since July. It's coming from us not even acknowledging the other person. It's coming from you never being here, and me having to make excuses for you in front of the kids." Eric opens his mouth but I continue right on, ignoring him. "And the worst part is, you're amazing when you're with them. You play and you make them laugh and they love you so much, but then for every five minutes you spend with them, you spend an hour making excuses to be late for dinner, to not meet us at the park, to not be able to pick them up from places. And…" The tears finally brim over, sliding down my cheeks. "And I don't ever feel like you want to spend time with me anymore. So I need to know – because I _know_ you love Alex and Stella – if you still love me too."

He groans, running a hand through his hair. "Sook, of course I still love you. You know that."

"How the hell would I know that?" I jump to my feet. "Because you haven't touched me in weeks? Because the most time we've spent together has been in bed, _sleeping_? I remember when we used to not be able to wait until we put the twins to bed and now it's like, priority-wise, sex falls somewhere under listening to Mrs Bellefleur gush about her great-grandkids."

"I don't remember you putting in any effort, either," he shoots right back. When he stands up, it's a bit more of a dramatic gesture due to his sheer size, and I hate that his physique hasn't made my heart thump in my chest in such a long time.

"When do I ever get a chance? When you fall asleep on the couch and don't move to our bed until three in the morning? Or when you get out of bed an hour before me to go for your run? Or all the times in between when you're either not here or if you are, you're watching TV or preoccupied with something else? When, pray tell, have I ever gotten the chance to try and _be_ with you?" My voice has risen to a dangerous pitch and I'm shaking with the force of my anger now.

"I'm not always gone. Monday, I was-"

"Monday you missed dinner and spent the hour before the kids had to go to bed playing with them." I sigh dejectedly. "And I don't begrudge you that, I really don't. It's just… dammit, Eric, I don't know if I can be married to someone who is never here. I can't be half of a whole when I spend most of my time trying to make up for your shortcomings."

"My _shortcomings_? _My shortcomings?_ You don't think I do this for you guys? You don't think I work my ass off so that you and the kids can live comfortably? You think I enjoy always missing you?"

"No, I don't think you like doing this, but I think you're focusing on the wrong things," I begin, doing my best to be diplomatic, "Because it's not enough. It's not enough for you to work your ass off and make a six-figure salary when I don't even feel like I have a husband, because we don't _need_ all the money. I wouldn't care if we both had to work if we came home and were a _family_, Eric. I wouldn't care if we had to live in a tiny apartment and had to drive an ancient Ford Fiesta if you told me you loved me and meant it, if you spent more than ten minutes at a time with the kids, if you weren't tired all the time!"

"So what are you saying?"

Sighing, I sink back onto the couch. "I'm saying, maybe we need to separate for a while, and reprioritize, figure out if we still want the same things."

"What, no, I don't want that, do you want that?" Eric stammers out, reclaiming a spot next to me.

"I don't want to be without you." I scoff, incredulous. Does he think this is ideal? That it's on my list of things I want to do to make my life better? "But lately, I can't tell the difference between being with you and being without."

"Fine, then we'll work on it. I'll do whatever you want, and we'll fix things, just please, honey, don't say you want to separate."

"I still want you, I still love you. I still miss you, every morning that I wake up and you say goodbye without a kiss." I tell my lap, wringing my hands to avoid meeting his gaze. That is, until he moves to kneel at my feet.

"I love you, I swear I do. I love our kids and, before everything went to hell, I loved our life too." He smiles a little bit, hopefully, and I can't help returning it a little bit. "And I still want you. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, of course I still want you."

"You turned me down," I mumble.

"Oh god," he groans and drops his head to my knee. "I'm such a jerk."

"You were tired." I shrug, dismissing the memory of last week when I had lain in bed, mortified, after he had shot me down and gotten out of bed to spend the night on the couch. The thought that my husband, who spent the entire night making love to me on our wedding night, was spending the night on the couch of his own volition to be away from me had made me sob until I had drifted off, exhausted and feeling lonelier than I had ever felt.

"I was an ass. I _am_ an ass. I don't know why I reacted that way, I was just tired and pissed off from work and there were a thousand ways to tell you that in a better way without hurting your feelings."

"I just figured you were done. That we were done." The thought that we could be done, the possibility that the relationship we started sixteen years ago could have come to an end, washes over me and I burst out crying.

"Min älskade," he coos, reverting to his mother tongue as he wraps me in his arms and I clutch at his sides to hold him close to me. "Jag älskar dig så mycket, jag är så ledsen. I'm so, so sorry," he adds, punctuating the last four words with kisses to my head. Nodding because I know he's so sorry, I still can't staunch the tears because I've been more hurt by the past few weeks than I had realized I was. When I can finally manage to pull myself together, I realize that his eyes are filled with unshed tears.

"No," I laugh tearfully. "Don't you cry too." I haven't seen him come anywhere near close to crying since I gave birth and those were tears of joy. Now he's crying because he's sorry and guilty and because, even if he will never admit it, my talk of us separating scared him. I cup his head in my hands and kiss his forehead, smoothing his hair back when he hides his face in my stomach. We stay like that for a long while, holding each other and getting reacquainted with the other's scent. Eric's hand slides under my shirt to rest against the small of my back and he presses kisses into my stomach and up my sternum to my neck, where he nibbles and sucks on the flesh. One hand slides up to tilt my head away, granting him better access to the spot behind my ear and a small moan escapes me when he presses a series of light kisses into it. My husband pulls back to slip off my shirt, finger combing my hair when he messes it up and hungrily returning his mouth to my collarbone. I moan his name and unbutton his shirt, pushing it off his broad shoulders before moving on to his belt buckle. I can't suppress the massive grin when I notice his erection, thrilled that for the first time in a long time, we're both somehow in the mood and ready to go.

"Something funny?" Of course he would notice. I shake my head and direct his mouth to mine.

"I'm just happy. Still scared, but happier."

"We'll make it. I love you too much to fuck up again."

"I love you too much too," I smile back, my hunger for him slamming into me once more. The rest of our clothes are more quickly shed and he pushes into me on the couch, both of us moaning at the sensation. I make an incoherent noise, arching my back as Eric begins moving inside me. His thrusts are fluid, his body resting on his elbows to allow his chest to press against mine and I hitch my knees up to grant him a better angle.

"Fuck, Baby, you feel amazing," he pants, lips brushing against my shoulder. I pull his hips into mine, begging for more and he obliges, slamming into me. "Like that?"

"Yeah," I gasp, feeling my climax approaching in the pit of my stomach. Wanting to finish with him, I tighten my inner muscles and he cries out my name, his thrusts growing more rapid. My legs wrap around his waist, securing his body against mine as I come, screaming his name, and he follows right behind me. I'm still a mindless lump of flesh when he carries me up the stairs to our bedroom, momentarily placing me on the bed to tug down the comforter and joining me under the covers. I eagerly pull him into my arms and we begin to kiss, moving on to a second – and later, a third – round. We actually make love the second time, and I bawl my eyes out afterwards, promising that I've gotten it all out of my system, after which my very relieved husband pulls me atop him for our third round.

"All tired out, huh?" I grin when he does this, even though I've already maneuvered him inside of me. He had been watching where our bodies are connected, but looks up to smirk at me.

"That, and I want you to fuck my brains out."

It's such a turn-on when he hands over the reigns to me that I groan, speeding up my movements and soon we're both shouting as we come. Afterwards, I rest my head on his chest and realize just how much I had been missing him.

"Let's go somewhere."

"What?"

"This weekend. Let's see if Amelia and Tray can keep the kids and we can go to Victoria. Or down to Washington, somewhere. Let's just go."

I smile, liking this plan. "Okay. But instead, can we plan for next weekend? This way it's less last minute and we can leave Friday afternoon and have two nights together instead of one."

He agrees and we make plans for the following weekend, excited to be spending time together.

We spend the next few days happier than we have been in months. Eric makes a point of kissing me hello and goodbye, and makes sure to get home in time for dinner. I love the looks on Stel and Alex's faces as their dad becomes a bigger part of their lives. I particularly enjoy the insane light in my own eyes when I look in the mirror Saturday morning, and then every morning for the rest of the week. We find a babysitter in Felicia who, by barely ever being in town and always returning with exotic tokens from the places her career as a photojournalist takes her, has become our children's Cool Aunt.

Or that's what she calls herself anyways.

In any case, she agrees to spend the weekend in our house, looking after the twins. We tell her about the kids' routine and make sure both our cellphone numbers are stuck to the fridge, and continue to fret until Flick practically shoves us both out the door.

"You think they'll be okay?" I ask once we're all settled in the massive SUV we bought after the kids were born.

"They'll be fine. Flick will take good care of them, and we need this, don't we?"

"Yes," I sigh, a little disgruntled that he's right. A few hours later, we pull into the underground parking of The Empress hotel in Victoria and make our way up to the harbour-view king suite Eric insisted on us booking for the next two nights.

"What do you think?" Eric asks when I push aside the curtains to look out over the water.

"I think it's beautiful," I say quietly, sighing in contentment when he wraps his arms around my waist and rests his chin on my head.

"But?" He prompts.

"_And_," I emphasize the different word with a sly smile, "Nothing." I hope this Eric lasts. Turning in his arms, I meld my body to his and rest my head against his chest, letting his warmth seep into me. "I really missed you." I had missed everything about him; we've been married for eight years, have been together for nearly sixteen. It's insane, the sheer amount of time I've spent with him, loving him. It's almost impressive that it took us fifteen years to take a misstep and I chuckle a little bit, thinking that it only makes sense. Fifteen is the age when a lot of things go sour; parents' relationships with their children, marriages, a lot of acting and singing careers.

Eric's arms tighten around me and he nuzzles my hair, telling me that he loves me. We have to get going though, because we have dinner reservations in The Empress Room downstairs. We quickly shower, separately at my insistence and despite his grumbling. I make several dirty promises in his ear before locking myself in the bathroom to shower, and that seems to satisfy him for the time being. Quickly and efficiently I style my hair, smoothing shining serum over it before blow-drying and styling my bangs to the side. I tug on my simple-cut, figure-hugging fuchsia cocktail dress and smooth it over my body, still satisfied with it after thirty-five years and a double-pregnancy. I accessorize the dress with my leather black heels, matching clutch and my favourite blue-tinted Swarovski necklace. Taking a deep breath, I swing the door open and step out into the suite living room where Eric has been waiting while I shower and get dressed.

"Am I late?" I ask with a small smile but he's too busy ogling me to notice and I have to wave my hand in front of him to gain his attention.

"What? Uhm, no," he checks his watch. "No, we still have fifteen minutes."

"How do I look?" I clutch my hands nervously in front of me and regard him through my lashes.

"Sook, you're _stunning_."

"Aww, shucks." I wave a dismissive hand despite blushing, and look away. "You look pretty great yourself." And he does. His suit is classic black but tailored perfectly for his tall frame. His hair, a bit shorter than he used to keep it in college, is styled back and looks a bit darker, but still really good.

"Is that a new dress?"

"Yeah. I figured… We haven't gone out in a while so I wanted to do something special."

"Christ, I'll take you out every night if it'll make you wear that."

"So you like?"

"Only a lil' bit." He nudges me forward by the small of my back and places a lingering kiss on my cheek. We head down for dinner a little while after that, and it's fantastic. Eric's a gentleman all night, pulling out my chair and pushing it back in for me, and insisting I pick the appetizer for us to share. It's wonderful, and once we get over stopping ourselves every time we want to talk about the kids, we actually have a conversation and it's like it used to be before with us. Afterwards, we both pass on dessert, having stuffed ourselves to the gills, and head upstairs with our arms around each other. In our suite, we undress each other and I find Eric enjoys my new lingerie even more than he does the dress. We make love slowly, talking quietly until the wave of pleasure crashes down on us and washes us away with it. The aftermath finds us curled into each other on our sides, me toying with my husband's fingers.

"I have something for you," he mumbles, his words a little muffled due to the close proximity of my forehead to his mouth. He presses a kiss into my hair and pulls back a little.

"What do you have?" I instantly regret the question when he moves away to rummage around in the bedside drawer. Grabbing whatever it is, he walks to my side and kneels in front of me where I'm now perched on the edge of the bed. "I guess this is a good time to mention I'm married," I joke when I realize he's holding a ring-sized jewelry box. He rolls his eyes at me and I decide against pointing out that he looks a little silly, kneeling naked in front of his equally naked wife. Sobering, he pops open the box to reveal a gorgeous simple Tiffany's-style engagement ring, albeit with a ruby instead of a diamond. My husband knows what I like.

"The first time I proposed to you, I didn't exactly have a lot of money. Actually, the first time I proposed to you, I hadn't even thought far enough ahead to have bought a ring in the first place, but that's not the point. The point is that you deserved a lot better, but it was the best I could do and somehow you decided you loved me enough to say yes anyway. This time, I could afford to buy you what I wanted to buy you, but I fucked it up and let our marriage fall apart a bit, so once again, you deserved better but somehow decided you love me enough to not just tell me to fuck off. Next time, I'll buy you a gorgeous ring _and_ make sure I'm a good husband, the kind you really deserve. I'm hoping you love me enough to stick by me until the next time, because I fucking adore you, Sookie Stackhouse-dash-Northman. I never thought I would love anyone as much as I love you, and on top of that you've given me Stella and Alex to love. I can't ever tell you how much you mean to me, but I can't wait to try and show you. So I guess my question is, disregarding the last little while and focusing on everything before our rough patch, do you still love me enough to continue to be my wife and make me the happiest man alive?"

Despite beaming, I sniffle and wipe ineffectively at the steady stream of tears, reaching out to finger-comb his hair back from his face. "If I say no, do I still get to keep the ring?"

"No."

"Then I guess my answer is yes." I grin and his mock-serious expression breaks into a smile to match mine. "Yesyesyesyes, a thousand times yes, Eric Northman." My husband slides the ring onto my finger, glancing over at the wedding band I took off before we went to bed and popping back up to capture my lips. We have sex once more before falling asleep in the other's arms.

We spend the next day walking around the harbour and visiting the Butchart Gardens, our hands clasped together the entire time like we're newlyweds. Following the winding paths through the various gardens, we talk very little but it's comfortable, neither one of us feeling the need to fill the silence with small talk. I think about us, about the past fifteen years and everything we went through.

After Eric proposed to me, we had to put everything on hold for a few years until I finished my Master's and so did he. We'd already been living together for two years at that point, and had seen no need to make any major changes. Once married, we agreed that we didn't want to buy our own place until our financial situation grew a bit more stable. We had moved out of our tiny apartment about halfway through Eric's grad degree and into a bigger place without a landlord right downstairs, so we were still pretty comfortable there even though we knew we would have to move should we ever decide to have kids. My pregnancy, about two and a half years after we got married, had come as a bit of a surprise to us right after we decided to stop actively trying and let nature take its course. But as my mother told me, there was no perfect time to have kids, pregnancy happens when it wants to and not a moment sooner, and that we would just have to roll with the punches. Of course, we hadn't really told her we'd been trying, but still we rolled, as we soon discovered that I was carrying twins and as Eric's promotion at the business firm he'd been working at brought the possibility of us actually owning our own place. We moved into our current place the summer after the kids were born, and about six months before my father passed away of a stroke in his sleep. I had been devastated, and still missed him everyday, but Eric had been fantastic during those times.

Really, he was fantastic a lot of the times. Especially now, as he holds my hands and nuzzles my hair occasionally when I stop to admire a particular flower.

"Jag älskar dig," I tilt up to say. He has wrapped me in his arms and now bends down to nibble on my bottom lip and kiss me more thoroughly. He loves when I speak Swedish to him, even though it took me years to get over the feeling that I sound silly when I do. Eric is fluent, of course, and over the years has managed to teach me a few things: 'I love you', 'I'm sorry', 'fuck me', 'let's put the kids to bed so we can have sex', etcetera. Even the kids know a little bit, their knowledge understandably lacking some of the things I can say, for the sake of not getting child's services called on us.

"Du är min favorit."

"You're my favourite too." I beam back up at him and he releases me after another kiss.

We have dinner at a small Indian place off of Government St later that evening and stay up most of the night, talking and making love until the sun comes up. At one point, Eric quietly asks me what I think about him quitting his job. He has worked at the same company ever since graduating with his MBA and he does well. Or has done pretty well, so far, and we'd made sure to be pretty diligent about saving whatever doesn't go into the kids' college funds. So we have a rather considerable savings account, on top of which is the family inheritance Eric never touched after his parents' death. So, he suggests carefully, he has been thinking about opening a bar of some sort. Lying naked in his arms, I consider his words, noting the hopeful glimmer in his eyes. He would be happy, I observe, and if it were me asking him, he would say 'yes', I am sure of it.

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. If it's something you really want to do, then, providing we take a closer look at the numbers, I'll support you."

"Really?" The wide smile adorning his features tells me I did the right thing; anything is worth seeing him that excited.

"Yeah, I got'chore back, baby!" Laughing, he leans down for a gentle kiss.

"I love you so much."

"I love you too."

He can't wipe the smile off his face for the rest of the night, and as a direct result, neither can I. When the sky begins lightening, we briefly consider falling asleep but then drag ourselves to the window and watch the sunrise before collapsing under the covers. He tells me he loves me about eight times more before we actually fall asleep, and I wake up in the morning with a very content Swede wrapped around me.

888

"We need to set some ground rules," I tell him, folding my legs under me and leaning into the back of the couch. It's been two weeks since our talk, and we've been slowly getting back into the swing of things. The twins are already in bed, and we've been going over the numbers for the past hour or so; looking at how much we have, how much we're willing to spend, how big of a leap we're willing to take to open a bar. We've finally come to an agreement, at nearly eleven, and we're both exhausted but pleased with our efforts. This business endeavour would mean that I have to put off going back to work once the kids start school in September, an idea I'd been toying with for a while. But it's alright, I'm in this, with him. For him. And now that things are getting better, I'm willing to help him guide our life in a different direction, because change is good. It's what we need.

My husband hands me my glass of wine and takes a sip from his own. "What do you mean?"

"You're really passionate about this, and that's great. Really, it is, and I'll support you, but I can see how easy it will be to let things slip again. Starting a new business, it's a big deal. It's time-consuming, and an enormous project to take on. But I'm willing to support you, assuming you don't let it consume you."

"So what do you suggest?"

"No working at home. When you're here, _be_ here. If you're struggling with something, talk to me about it instead of trying to figure it out by yourself and shutting me out. If you're exhausted, every day, because of the amount of effort you have to put in, fine, take a nap, watch some TV, but spend some time with the kids and put in an effort with me too."

"Okay," he nods, digesting the words and waiting for me to continue.

"I wish you'd take some time off and spend time with us, to let things mend, but instead you're planning this huge project. And I'm not holding that against you, because I love you and because I think things will be better if we do this. So my point is, don't let me look like a fool; using the bar as an excuse to put 'us' on hold, yet again, is not acceptable. It's going to be tough, I know that, and I'll meet you halfway on everything, but if I find myself trying to figure out what went wrong the way I had to before, I'll be making some changes, to a life that doesn't include you. I love you Eric, I do, and it'll break me, but I can't survive more of what we went through these past months, okay?" I wait, as Eric absorbs my words and all their implications, and buy him some time by getting up to grab another bottle of wine. That first one had been half-empty. Settling back down, I pour myself more and top off Eric's glass before deeming his time to digest over.

"My turn to talk?" he asks and I nod, a little surprised.

"I feel like I can't talk to you." I open to mouth, to protest, and he holds up a hand. "You had your turn, now it's mine, okay?" I take a deep breath and nod for him to continue. "I feel like my work is a part of my life separate from you. And I love you, but I come home and you have all these stories, of _our_ kids, and all the stories I've got are about my boss and the stock market. I thought if I had my own business, and it took off, I could eventually hire a manager and you could go back to work like you want to, and every now and then I could tell _you_ a story about them."

"If you wanted to have some time with the kids-"

"It's not about spending time with the kids," he interrupts. "It's about feeling like I don't have your interest unless I talk about what you know." We fall into a silence, as _I_ consider _his_ words. If I'm being honest with myself, his words hurt. It's one thing to say the blame is not all on him, but it's entirely another to have him point out my faults, and my husband telling me he feels he can't talk to me is like a punch to the gut.

"I don't-... Uhm, it's all I know. The twins, they're all I know. I'm sorry if you think I'm not interested in what you have to say, because I am. It's just that, when we talk, in my head I'm still thinking about picking up groceries and signing them up for soccer and taking Alex in for a haircut. 'Ric, you can make the distinction between work and home, but _my_ work _is_ at home. I'm sorry that you feel like you can't talk to me. I _want_ you to talk to me, and I want to hear your stories because you're my husband and you're my best friend. It's just, it's my entire life."

"So let's make an effort. I can help you, but I think you're the one who has to take this step. And you are my best friend too." He grins when I do, and takes a sip of his wine before setting it aside. "If you need a break, all you have to do is say so, Sookie."

"What, I don't-"

"Not _that_ kind of break. Not from our life, just, a break. Go, take a weekend with Amelia, gossip about me and Tray and how we're smelly men and you can't stand us sometimes." I can't help giggling.

"You're not smelly. You smell very good, actually." I flirt, terribly, eying him up and down. My husband moves closer to take the wine away from me.

"You're tipsy, Mrs Northman," he laughs, smelling the alcohol on my breath and leaning to kiss my neck.

"I have had quite a bit of wine," I agree, holding his head to me and enjoying the feel of his lips. I'm not really tipsy, just relaxed, mellow. Well, maybe tipsy. "Are you going to take advantage of me?"

"I wouldn't want you to regret it in the morning."

"Mr Northman," I whisper, pulling his face up to level him with my gaze. "If you don't take advantage of me, you will regret it in the morning."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's an incentive."

We put everything away and turn off all the lights before hurrying up the stairs to our bedroom, Eric holding my hand the entire time. Pulling off my tanktop, he kisses the swell of my breasts and captures my mouth in a breathtaking kiss.

"What was that for?" I ask when we break apart.

"Because we're trying," he grins. "Because I love you. Because sixteen years later, I still think you're the most gorgeous girl in the room."

I quirk a brow, "I'm thirty-five, I'm not a girl anymore."

"I know, you're my older woman." He grins and tightens his arms around me when I glare and attempt to pull away. "I love you, Sookie Northman."

"I love you too, Eric Johan Northman." I love his middle name. It's so Swedish.

"Are we okay? What I told you, is that okay?"

"You mean you being honest with me about how you feel about us? I'm not okay that it's how you feel, but I'm glad you told me so I can work on it." I trace the strong lines of his shoulders with my palms and reach down to pull the t-shirt over his head. "You know what I'm _not_ okay with?"

Concern colours his features. "What?"

"The fact that you're not on top of me yet." Standing up on my tip-toes, I lick his ear and murmur, "What are you waiting for, sexy younger man of mine?"

We proceed have really good sex that night, really, really good sex until I collapse on top of him in a boneless mass of satisfied woman.

"Hey Eric? If I ever cheat on you, feel free to have me committed, because I don't know why I would want to sleep with anybody else. Ever."

"Likewise." He shoots me a pointed look.

"You want to go again, don't you?" I giggle.

"Yes please." Rolling on top, Eric clasps my wrists above my head with one hand and, guiding himself to my entrance with the other, thrusts in. His movements are languid, and loving, and I moan into his kiss when he rubs at my clit. Sensing I'm close, he releases my hands and supports the arch in my back with a hand, driving into me with shallow, rough thrusts until I'm falling apart around him. My husband lets out a choked groan and buries himself inside me when he climaxes, and I hold him to me until his breathing has calmed. Carefully pulling out, Eric pulls my still-shuddering body into his and lets his hands stroke down my spine. His lips flit from feature to feature, and I let my eyes drift shut as I smile.

"You're perfect."

"You haven't said that to me in a long time," he observes and I open one eye, my grin widening.

"You'll always be perfect, Min Lilla Gubbe. You just lost touch for a little bit, but you've always been perfect."


	19. Outtake 1

A/N: Hey guys! I'm back! Or rather, these two lovebirds are back in three little instalments that didn't quite fit into the story, or that I just wrote for my own little heart. Let me know what you think!

* * *

**August 2011**

I flop unceremoniously on my bed and groan at the impact. After a moment, I contort my body so I can tug my Blackberry out of my pocket and pull up my texting conversation with Eric.

_I miss you._

I press Send and bury my face in the comforter. I haven't seen him since the end of July, and won't see him until the beginning of September; a full month, the longest we've gone. Most days aren't too bad because I never let myself sit idle long enough that I end up missing him, but today has been pretty crappy. My pity party is cut short by the telltale vibration of my phone.

_Come on Skype._

Now smiling, I grab my laptop and prop myself up on my elbow as I wait for everything to load, and pull up Skype as quickly as I can. He's already online, so I click the little phone and wait for him to pick up. Once the image unfucks itself, I can see Eric in bed in much the same position I was in two minutes ago.

"Hi Beautiful," he grins, a bit drowsily.

"Were you asleep?" He's not even wearing a shirt; not that I can see much other than his bicep. His strong, muscular bicep. God I need to get some. There's the sound of sheets rustling and he mirrors my position, lying on his stomach.

"Yeah." He rubs at his eyes and runs a hand through his mussed hair.

"I didn't mean to wake you up!" I frown.

He shrugs. "My phone was on vibrate."

"Well, now I feel bad." Yup, I'm pouting.

"I could have just ignored your text. You think I would have hauled ass if I didn't want to see you?" A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. I glare at him. "Did you not want to see me?"

"Shut up," I snap, or try to, but my heart's not really in it.

"What's wrong?"

I groan and rest my head on one hand so that my face is squished unattractively. "I'm lonely. And sad. And lonely."

His face softens. "I miss you too."

"This is really hard, Eric," I whisper. Even though it's only one month and then we get to be together, I've developed a huge amount of respect for people in long-term, long-distance relationships.

"We're almost done," he whispers back with a twinkle in his eyes. "I can't wait to see you not on a fifteen-inch screen."

"I miss touching you," I mumble and hide my face in my hands. I just desperately miss the physical aspect of our relationship, the sex and the cuddling, even the handholding.

"I miss you touching me." A boyish grin curves his lips.

"You look good," I smile at him. If we were actually together, I would probably strip down to my underwear and spoon _him_ like we sometimes do. He looks warm, and oh so inviting.

"You too. Unhappy, but beautiful."

My eyes instantly fill with tears. Asshole. "I'm going to cry if you keep being sweet, and you're too far away to be helpful."

"Sorry, Bay-bay." He grins. "What'd you do today?"

I tell him, about the minor, insipid details of my day, from having to change my maple syrup-stained jeans after breakfast to getting into an argument with my coworker, and the fact that I'm getting my period which is probably the reason why I'm so fucking weepy. He wrinkles his nose at that last part, which is kinda cute because it's such a boy thing to do.

"I'm sorry you're having a bad day, Sook." He pouts adorably.

I make an incoherent noise and bunch a pillow under my head so I can still look at him. "What'd you do today?"

"Got up, worked out, went to work." He chuckles. "Thalia is worried that I'm getting depressed again."

Like he had been after Pam died. That gets my attention. "Why does she think that?"

"Because I don't do anything except work." He smiles self-deprecatingly.

"And why not?"

"Are you long-distance mothering me?" He quirks a brow and I rest my head back on the pillow.

"No?"

"I'm fine. I miss you. I don't feel like going out, but that's 'cause Flick practically lives here anyways and I've been reading a lot."

"So I don't need to be worried?"

"Not unless you're cheating on me with my best friend and are planning on getting yourself killed," he says with a grin.

"Flick and I didn't mean to fall in love, it just happened." I grin back, and we just stare at each other for a few minutes.

"I love you, Miss Stackhouse."

"I heart you also. Get to bed, you look exhausted."

"Nooo," Eric grumbles.

"We'll talk tomorrow," I press.

"Skype?" He pouts, and I incline my head. "Wear something slutty?"

My poor, poor, horny Eric. "So you can get hard and not do anything about it?"

His gaze darkens. "Oh I'll do something about it."

"You want to jerk off on Skype?" I can't help laughing, even though I have to look behind me to make sure my door is still closed. My parents are still up.

"I would if you did too."

Oh good. Oh god. "I would feel silly," I murmur, blushing. To my surprise, he accepts that and we talk until I have to go to bed, if I want to get up in time for work tomorrow. I make sure to tell him I love him, and that I'll see him in just over two weeks, because a part of me is still a little worried about him.

Typically selfish of me, I guess, that I hadn't considered how he was doing, beyond obviously missing me. Though I hadn't exactly witnessed anything suggestive of impending depression, since he seemed fine when we got to spend time together. Regardless, there is very little I can actually do, from here, without any evidence pointing to anything solid. Tomorrow, when we Skype, I'll gauge whether or not he's…. _off_, in any way. After we both get off, that is. With that thought, I get ready for bed and drift off with a smile on my face.


	20. Outtake 2

A/N: This one is pretty lemony, but I can't help it. And I can't help my love for Andy Samberg. You will understand soon enough.

* * *

**January 2011**

With Eric's face between my legs, I arch my back and twist my neck, biting into the pillow to muffle the scream that wrenches itself from my throat as I convulse. Still shaking, I watch as he moves to his knees between my spread legs, stroking himself and arching a brow at me.

"I want you," I whisper, biting my lip playfully and reaching out. When he joins me, his kisses are soft and so tender that I ache for him, to have his body as close to mine as physically possible.

"Be on top?" he murmurs, pressing a kiss into my cheek, and I mm-hmm, stroking a hand up and down his bicep. We quickly reposition, and I decide to take my time when I see the fading light of dusk spread across his bare chest. I press kisses into his defined abs, smiling as I do so when he chuckles, and work my way up to his nipples. Nibbling at them the way he likes, I let one hand play with the sparse hair on his chest and then scratch at his ribs.

"You're so Swedish," I tease, pressing a kiss over his heart. He's all limbs too, which I kind of adore because it makes me feel so tiny in comparison, especially when he's holding me. Sucking on his neck, my fingers tangle in his hair and I feel myself grow even more aroused when he releases a tiny moan. I can definitely feel his interest when I readjust my position to grind against him, and his hands drop from stroking my back and waist to squeezing my ass.

"I love your ass," Eric murmurs absently, eyes glued to where I'm still rubbing against his length. "I want you." He repeats my own words and grins, meeting my gaze, and I giggle while my hand guides him to where I want him.

"How do you feel about this?" I whisper as I take him in and he braces himself on the bed to push his hips up.

"Pretty fucking amazing," he grunts and laughs. I reach back to smack lightly at his knees.

"I'm in charge right now. You're supposed to just lay there." He arches a brow and I wink, sinking down and rising up again.

"Like a glorified dildo?"

"No. A dildo can't do this," I move his hands to my breasts and they instantly begin teasing my nipples, tugging and twisting. My head falls back, and when I finally manage to lift it, I find Eric's eyes once again glued to where he keeps disappearing inside my body. With a change of angles, he's rubbing against a particular spot that has me moaning out loud and I slap my hand over my mouth immediately.

"I want to hear you." I shake my head. The walls are thin; he knows this, but now he moves my hand and places them both flat on his chest. "I want to hear you," he repeats with a sharp push of his hips upwards and I moan instantly.

"Do that again," I order and he does, as an act of good faith that I reward vocally. Soon however, I've sped up my rhythm and we're both tensing, hands scrabbling for some purchase as we approach our respective climaxes. Mine is triggered by his thumb insistently rubbing at my clit, and Eric cries out as he unloads inside my body. I pull myself off with a grimace and plop unceremoniously onto the mattress, my chest rising and falling rapidly. A few minutes later, Eric pulls himself up and reaches over me for his laptop, clicking a couple of times before pulling me into his arms and under the covers. I shoot him an inquisitive look in the moment before the song he pulled up begins playing, and I almost instantly recognize it.

"Are you serious?"

Not meeting my gaze, Eric begins to sing along with the guys of The Lonely Island: "I just had sex, yeah, and it felt so good…" His words drift off and he grins, awaiting my reaction. I gape for a second more before I burst out laughing; loud, infectious laughter the he soon joins me in. We end up singing along to the music, giggling our way through the verses, and I remember for the thousandth time why I'm desperately in love with him.


	21. Outtake 3

A/N: FLUFF. SO MUCH FLUFF. IT'S EVERYWHERE, ALL OVER MY BED AND MY CLOTHES AND STUCK IN MY HAIR.

* * *

**March 2012**

**Sookie**

"What are you playing?" A familiar voice asks and my head snaps around to find my boyfriend leaning against the doorframe.

"Oh, nothing," I mutter, sliding my guitar off my lap, blushing. "Just something I'm trying to learn."

"Sounded pretty good," he observes and takes a seat in my desk chair, propping his feet up on my mattress, next to where I'm seated. "Any particular reason you're learning it?" He knows. Bastard _knows_.

"Um, just because." I shrug and note the faintest hints of disappointment in his eyes. "I thought you might like it," I admit.

"Well, let's hear it."

"What, no, I'm not good at it."

"Come on, please? I'd love to hear it."

I groan, "Eric."

"Sookie." He gives me his puppy dog eyes, knowing full well how it melts my heart.

"Urgh, _fine_. But if I mess up, you can't laugh."

"Sook, you're better than me, why would I laugh at you." I scowl at him but pull Chandler back into my arms, strumming a few times just to make sure it still sounds good and in tune.

"It's a bit angsty, so watch out," I warn and shape my fingers into the opening notes. As I begin singing, I look up to smile at him every now and then, the smile occasionally widening when Eric smiles back or when the lyrics bring particular images to my mind. Reaching the end of the first verse, I struggle with not letting myself tear up as I go through the chorus…

_But darling, you are the only exception…_

I sneak a glance and relax when I find him still entranced, and continue with the second verse. I mess up once, my voice breaking a bit when I try to hit the high notes in the bridge and I cringe, shooting Eric an apologetic look that he returns with a kind couple of runs through the chorus and I'm left with the last line.

_And I'm on my way to believing._

Now done, my fingers hesitate over the strings for a moment before I put the instrument back on its stand.

"What do you think?" I ask, feeling my cheeks burning, when he doesn't say anything at first. Moving to kneel in front of me, he tilts my face down and captures my lips in the softest of kisses. My hands move to rest on his shoulders and then tangle in his hair, and I catch his full bottom lip between mine when he breaks the kiss.

"That was beautiful." He rests his forehead against mine. "I love you so much."

"Love you too," I breathe, still a bit shaken from the passion of his kiss. We toe off our shoes and lie on the bed on our sides, facing each other. He would have tried to instigate sex, I'm sure, but I've cut him off this week and there's still a couple of days left. Instead, Eric's arm drapes over my waist and I return the favour albeit under his shirt, drawing shapes on his bare skin.

"Out of curiosity, would you marry me?"

That's a bit out of left field and I hesitate, unsure of what the right answer is before deciding on the truth. "Honestly? Right now, I probably wouldn't. We're too young, and we have too much going on, but someday? Yeah, sure. I love you enough to marry you. Why, do you see us ever getting married?"

He presses another kiss into my lips before responding. "Yeah. I think, if I ever got married, it would be to you."

"Aww, 'Ric."

He smiles the soft defenseless smile that only I ever get to see. "You're the only one who has ever called me that."

"You don't mind, do you? You've never said anything about it in the past year."

"It'd probably piss me off if someone else used it, because it's your thing. I like it when you do it."

"Good. I'm not sure I'd like it either if someone else used my cutesy nickname for you."

"Hmm, 'cause I'm not cutesy."

"Not as a general rule." We both salute General Rule à la _How__I__Met__Your__Mother_, laughing as we do, and I snuggle closer to him. Closing my eyes, I let myself bask in the warmth of his body and the scent of his soap and aftershave. A moment later, drifting in and out of sleep, I catch him humming the song, several octaves lower than I did. With a kiss to his chest, I tell him I love him and close my eyes once more.

**April 2012**

"Eric," I complain as he drags me away from my desk. "I have a final in like, a week. C'mon."

"It'll only take a little while," my boyfriend promises me, which means he's not just wanting a quickie so I give him the benefit of the doubt and let him lead me to his room where he motions for me to take a seat on his mattress. Grabbing his guitar, Eric perches on a chair and shoots me a sheepish look, apologizing in advance in case he screws up, and begins playing. The song is familiar and I cock my head to the side, trying to remember what it is but he starts singing before I can figure it out. He rarely sings for anybody other than Flick and I. _His__girls_, he calls us, getting himself laid whenever he calls me his favourite girl. He would much rather play his guitar and let me or whoever else sing, so I recognize how big of a deal this is for him to be singing me a song of his own volition, without any nudging on my part. Right now, I watch him, my mouth falling open a little as I realize what song it is. My hand travels to my chest, a part of me that happens to be overflowing with the warm fuzzies as he sings a gorgeous acoustic version of _Must__Have__Done__Something__Right_by Relient K.

_We should get jerseys,_

'_cause we make a good team._

_But yours would look better than mine_

'_cause you're out of my league._

He rolls his eyes, all self-deprecating and I scoff even though I'm feeling so touched. If anything, _he_ is out of _my_ league because he's _perfect_.

_And I know that it's so cliché,_

_To tell you that every day,_

_I spend with you is the new best day of my life._

That's it. Tears start running down my face and my hands move to my mouth as he continues, wavering at my tears but obliging when I nod that I'm fine and that he should continue. I anticipate the chorus, bracing myself for the words that I'm sure will make me bawl.

_If anyone could make me a better person, you could,_

_All I gotta say is I musta done something good._

_You came along one day and you rearranged my life,_

_All I gotta say is I musta done something right,_

_Musta done something right._

I somehow manage to hold it together for the rest of the song, 'holding it together' being a relative term considering I'm crying quietly throughout the entire thing. When he's done, I rest the guitar on its stand before settling myself in his lap to place the mother of all his kisses on him.

"You're crying. That was not the reaction I had been hoping for, frankly." He grins at me and I giggle tearfully.

"Did you know that was my favourite song?" He nods, a tad sheepishly and I wrap my arms around him, holding his body to mine. "I love your voice. And I love you so much."

"I love you too. I just wanted to return the favour, since you were so amazing and sang me a song."

"Make love to me." He hesitates only a moment before lifting me to his bed and covering his body with mine. His touch is reverent and loving, and he does everything that I love until I'm a shaking mess of limbs in his arms as he finally reaches his own climax. Pulling out, he kisses me when I whimper at his loss and tosses the condom.

"I always thought that you were out of my league." I confess quietly into our post-coital bliss, pressed into his side despite all the room we have.

"Why did you think that?" He chuckles.

"Because you're so devilishly handsome," I grin, "and you were so sweet to me, and you flirted outrageously with everybody but me. You only flirted an average amount with me, and I figured it was because you only saw me as a friend. And then we were together and you were this fantastic boyfriend who cooked and could sing and play guitar and I was always just in awe of you."

"And now I'm none of those things?"

"Now you're all of those things and more. But I'm still sort of in awe of you." I stop and find him looking bemused.

"Want to know a secret?" I nod. He should know better, I always do. "I always thought you were out of _my_ league, because I felt like if I treated you the way I treated other girls, you'd put me in my place so I never tried to charm the pants off of you."

"And yet, you still got into them," I grin. "Tell you what, can we just agree that we're in the appropriate league for the other, since we both think the other is out of our league but we're together so obviously we're in the same league."

He nods slowly. "That was a very convoluted sentence." I smack him and he laughs, snuggling closer to press a kiss into my hair.

"Will you sing for me again?"

"What, that song?"

"Yeah. And other songs too, but that song most of all."

"Aw, Sook, I don't-"

"Come on, pleasepleaseplease?" I pout and he grumbles something about my fucking puppy dog eyes, which really means 'yes'.

"You know you've gotta reciprocate, right?"

"Of course," I roll my eyes and push myself up to kiss him. We make out for a little while and then I crawl over him to get dressed, claiming my study break done.

"Seriously? What am I, just a good lay to you?" He curls an arm under his head and regards me with humour in his eyes.

"Yes," I quip back.

"Oh." Sitting up, he covers himself up with the sheets and regards me anxiously, the picture of a needy teenage girl. "So, will you call me?"

"Sure," I offer unconvincingly.

"Really?"

"Of course." I break character, grinning and bending down for another kiss. "Thank you, Baby."

"You're more than welcome." Eric plops back onto his mattress and regards me contentedly as I finish dressing and leave.

**A/N: The song Sookie plays is The Only Exception by Paramore (but on a side note, check out the Sam Tsui cover on Youtube) and the one Eric plays is, as mentioned earlier, Must Have Done Something Right by Relient K.**


End file.
